Forever Locked
by amateur73
Summary: Sequel to "Locked." I recommend you read that first. Sassy Charlie is back from the island, but that doesn't mean she has any less problems.
1. Chapter 1

**So…I've decided to make a sequel. I wasn't too sure at first, but eh. The first chapter doesn't include much of the boys, but the next chapter kind of reintroduces them, I promise. Chapter number one is more about Charlie's life at home, so bear with me. It's not the greatest, but it's only chapter one. Reviews? Yes, please.**

Most of the crew aboard the ship treated us like we were five. "Are you alright, sweetie?" "Dear lord, you're bleeding?" "Gasp! Is that dirt?"

Yes, lady, it is dirt, haven't you seen it before? I tried my best not to snap at them (and usually I don't try to stop myself), but I couldn't help roll my eyes and insert a snarky remark every once in a while. I calmed down once they brought out the food, though.

The naval officer sat us all down at a long table, assigning us all seats. I got to sit across from Jack, lucky me. The nurses aboard had him wash his face hard with soap first, seeing as how he had the most paint on. He resisted, but only for a few seconds, turning into a prissy school boy. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, shuffling over to the bathroom.

Jack couldn't even look me in the eyes. His sight quickly switched back and forth from the crew to the food being given out, passing my face too fast to see. But I made sure he knew was there by giving him a sharp kick every once in a while, followed by a quiet, "oops."

I, admittedly, put loads of food on my plate. Pregnant teenage girl who hadn't seen a real meal in weeks, what do you expect? Anyway, the crew kept mentioning how we all were devouring the food quicker than a pack of wolves and how they were surprised that no one even touched the pork. I think it was safe to say none of us kids were shocked.

After the meal, the crew took us each one by one, asking us for our names and phone numbers to inform our families that we were found. The staff apparently heard of our disappearance and explained to us that we were a big hit in the newspapers and on the internet. About a third of the kids, mostly the younger ones, had forgotten their telephone numbers and their number had to be searched for manually through the directory with only their name.

I had remembered my telephone number, but I pretended that I didn't. I didn't mind if I never saw my family again. "Name?" asked a man holding a pen and notepad.

"Charlie Emerson."

"Is that your full name?"

I sighed, hesitant to give my real name, but decided that they wouldn't be able to find my family with it, anyway.

"Charlotte Jane Emerson."

The man began scribbling my name, and then stopped midway. "You're Charlotte Emerson? From Ohio?"

Crap.

"Yeah, that's me."

"You've been on the news! Oh my gosh- Hey, McKinney! We've got Charlotte Emerson!" he called over to the naval officer that rescued us.

"I thought you looked familiar!" the officer named McKinney said, walking over to us. "Maybe if you cleaned yourself up a bit, I'd have recognized you sooner. I can't believe you survived that plane fall!"

I tuned them out as they babbled on about how many times they'd seen me and my family on the news and all that crap. I just nodded the whole time; I lived the story, I didn't need to listen to how the newspapers portrayed it. After a while, they finally picked up the phone and began dialing away at a news station. I mentally scolded myself for not giving a fake name.

The sailor informed me that the news station was scrounging through their database to find my mom's phone number, for they talked to her numerous times, and he'd put me on the phone with her as soon as possible.

I left the crew surrounding the telephone and wandered around the ship. I passed Ralph getting nursed by one of the babying women, and a littlun on another phone crying to his mom. When I walked further, I saw Roger, sitting alone, sulking in his darkness in a corner. I walked up to him, taking a defiant stand over him.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

"My life back."

"I never took it."

I sent a punch flying across his cloudy, murky face. He was in a secluded area of the ship, so no one saw or heard me. "You took everything from me, son of a bitch."

"Jack took it first."

I punched him square in the face.

"Knock it off!" he yelled, jumping up from his seat and whipping out a knife he was apparently carrying in his pocket. How handy dandy.

"What? What are you gonna do with that?" I asked in a tone that said I didn't believe he'd hurt me. "You gonna kill me, just like you killed Piggy? And helped kill Simon?"

He raised his knife a bit, his hand trembling only slightly, but it steadied almost immediately; he breathed roughly in my face, fire flaring in his beastly eyes. Obviously, he wasn't quite ready to let go of his hunter side. "I didn't kill _anyone_."

Roger lowered his knife and placed it safely back in his pocket, not taking his eyes off of me for a second. "And that kid's not mine."

"It could be."

"Then get an abortion."

He said it like he was choosing what he wanted for dinner.

"It's not your choice."

"I thought you said it could be mine." I said nothing. "It's not like you want to keep it anyway."

Roger then left, not giving me the opprotunity to beat him up, but I didn't feel like following. I simply walked the other way, fuming.

"Charlotte!" called an officer.

"What?" I snapped, whipping around.

"Control your temper, missy. Your mother's on the phone."

"Please, call me Charlie," I said with fake kindness.

I reluctantly followed him and snatched the phone one of the crew members was holding out.

"Hello?" I mumbled.

"Charlotte!" cried a voice on the other side. My mother burst into tears, sniffling and choking on her own breaths. I waited until she could form human words. "Oh, Charlotte, how are you?"

"Fine."

This was obviously not the answer she was hoping for.

"Charlotte, we have a lot to talk about when we see you. Oh my gosh, I can't believe this! We're still in England, we never left! Oh, I'm so glad we found you! We're going right now to meet you at the docks, okay?"

"Alright."

"Charlotte," she choked out. "I want to talk to you."

"I'll talk to you when I see you in person," I muttered, peering around at all the people watching me eagerly. I hated this mushy crap.

"I love you," she said in an uneven exhale.

"Yeah, okay. Bye, mom."

The phone clinked as I hung up. The whole crew was looking at me, completely flabbergasted and even a bit offended.

"That's all you say to your mother, when you haven't spoken to her in a half year?" one of the women asked, armed with a tissue who was apparently upset that there was no tear-jerking show.

"Wow, a half year, has it really been that long?" I asked in an ill tone and marched away from the crowd.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, very few people reading my story. What's up? Okay, so in the beginning, Charlie sort of sums everything up about her family and stuff in the first week. I originally wrote it out into a whole chapter, but I slimmed it down because Charlie's family **_**really**_** isn't a big part of the story and I didn't want to change it. I can add it in at any time, though. So, review please. I know this chapter is kind of long, but help with your opinion. Merci!**

If you wouldn't mind (which you don't), I would rather skip over the beginning of my return to civilization. I'd rather skip over how I kept barfing on the ship but never saw Jack who avoided me, and how my mom attacked my face with kisses when I got off of the ship and informed me that Nicki said pushing me was an "accident" when she tried to push herself out and she was currently alive and going to "meetings", and how my mom gave me one week before I had to meet my psychologist because she was not letting go of the idea. Yes, I'd rather skip over that.

So, one week of freedom passed rather quickly. In that week, I'd gotten the teal streaks in my hair re-dyed (it's safe while pregnant, relax), blasted music back into my ears that desperately needed it, found a guitar store with teens into the same music as me (who I played with sometimes at the local music store, which was pretty cool), cleaned out the snack foods much to my stepbrother's dismay, and taken 5 home pregnancy tests which all came out positive, as if I wasn't sure already. I didn't tell my mom yet, though.

The day of torture with the shrink had to come sometime, of course. I brought my ipod to get me through the car ride and waiting room; music is my only means of escape, in case you hadn't noticed.

I played with the zipper on my new black hoodie my mom bought as a welcome home present (even though she hates black). It was open, revealing the red and black striped t-shirt underneath. It felt great to be back in skinny jeans, since wearing a skirt was starting to get old. My classic black high-top converse were probably the favorite part of my outfit, and what I wore the most often. But even those couldn't get me out of my pissed-off mood.

My mom marched me into the building, despite me attempting to stay in the car.

"You're gonna go whether you like it or not, Charlotte! Nothing you say is going to get you out of here!" she snapped.

"That's comforting," I murmured. Here she was, in her snappy mood, which was about 90% of the time.

My mom lead me to a room, making sure the number on the door was correct. "Room 332, Doctor John Merridew-"

"WHAT?" I screamed, snatching my wrist out of my mother's grasp and jumping back a few steps. "No, no, no," I repeated as if I was trying to convince myself I wasn't crazy. That may as well have been what I was doing. I recalled when I was on the island, listening to Jack prattle on about his life at him. His said dad was a well-known psychologist.

FUCK.

"Please, mom, you don't understand, you don't understand!" I stuttered, shaking my head feverently.

"Oh, Charlotte, stop," she said with a click of her tongue and a roll of her eyes. This would have been a great time for her to be in her over-sweet mood. "We're already here, you're going!"

She gripped my wrist tight enough to cut off my circulation and tugged me into the waiting room, causing me to stumble over my feet.

The room was completely empty of any people except for my mom and me and the secretary behind the glass window. I flopped into one of the maroon chairs and listened to my mom explain to the secretary that we were there for "Doctor Merridew."

_Maybe it's not Jack's dad,_ I thought to myself. _There's gotta be a lot of Merridews in London, right? And lots of psychologists, therefore lots of famous psychologists named Merridew. Problem solved._

My mom sat next to me and held my hand, returning a kinder mood. The door clicked open and a tall, lanky man stepped out. His shined brown shoes appeared first, than a long, lanky leg draped in an espresso colored dress pant. The dress shirt on him was a pale baby blue color and a patterned deep blue tie lay on top of it. The outfit blended in a dull way with his pale skin and bright ginger hair. He held a striking resemblence to Jack.

"Good morning," greeted the red-headed man. "Hello, Mrs. Davis. I assume this is the famous Charlotte you've spoken about." Yeah, I know, my last name is Emerson and my mom's is Davis. She got remarried and I kept my dad's last name.

My mom nodded and stood up to shake his hand. "Yes, Doctor Merridew. This is Charlotte. Charlotte, be polite and shake his hand."

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself out of the chair. My hand stuck out limp in front of my and the Doctor stretched his long fingers and gave it a firm shake. "Hello, Charlotte. Pleased to meet you, I've heard so much."

"Please, call me Charlie," I muttered.

"Charlie," he repeated. He seemed almost repulsed by my darkish clothing and eye liner, but I met his eyes and gave a defensive look. "Come into my office."

My mom followed him directly and I came after, leaving space in between. Doctor Merridew opened the door and showed us in. The walls were the color of sand, which wasn't very comforting for obvious reasons of my past. Two blue suede chairs sat parallel with a small table dividing them. Across the room was a couch with three seats made of the same blue fabric. Another stand stood next to it holding a lamp and box of tissues in a dark brown box. Next to the door stood a desk with books and papers in neat little piles under the light of a small silver lamp. I didn't like the looks of this place already.

I sank into the fathest seat on the couch and my mom sat right next to me. I eyed the clock and counted each second, knowing that there was still a full crappy hour left. My mom started talking about how she's always worried about me and stuff. The doctor listened for probably about five minutes, but he spoke after she finished one of her run-on sentences.

"Mrs. Davis, I'm well aware of how you feel about Charlo- Charlie. I was kind of hoping to get to know her a bit, one-on-one for the frst appointment. Would you mind giving us a few moments?"

My mom sat still with her lips parted slightly for a second or two, thinking that the doctor was making the wrong choice, I'm sure. Then she nodded and said, "Okay." Stiffly, she creaked the door open and walked like a zombie down the hallway, fiddling with her hands.

The doctor and I sat in silence, looking at each other for a few seconds. My eyes dared him to speak first, and he decided to do so.

"So, Charlie, what can you tell me about yourself?"

"What can you tell me about myself?" I asked, cocking my head only slightly.

"I see you're rebellious from your clothes, and you're rather uncomfortable with your mother. In fact, it looks as if you loathe her. You try to be different, but not so much that you're rejected."

I eyed him for a second, deciding if I should say he was right or not. "I don't try to be different. I'm the same as others in lots of ways. But I _am_ different. I don't think you know me very well."

Doctor Merridew seemed to process something in his mind and looked rather skeptical. My attention turned as I heard fast-paced steps muffed in the hallway getting louder and louder. The door swung open and revealed a tall figure.

"Dad-" he started, but he completely froze when he laid his eyes upon me. The little color he had in his stupid face drained and his hand flew to his fiery red hair. "Charlie!" he shouted, stumbling back and slamming into the papered wall behind him.

"Look who it is," I muttered, narrowing my eyes.

"Charlie, this is my son, Jack. But I'm guessing that you two know each other?"

"I believe that we do…_know_ each other," I said, glaring at every detail on Jack's face. "We met on the island."

"Oh, this was the only girl on the island, Jack? Well, I didn't know. I'm sorry, Jack isn't supposed to interrupt me during my sessions unless it's an _emergency_."

"I-it is, dad," Jack stuttered, still looking fearfully at me. "The b-boiler broke and they need your help right away."

"Oh. My greatest apologies, Charlie, this will only take a moment or two. Jack, why don't you stay here and you two can catch up over the past, erm, week." With that, Doctor Merridew flew out the door and down the hall. I took a lucky guess that he didn't have a clue as to what happened between Jack and I. Jack still stood against the wall.

"How have you, er, been, Charlie?"

"Pregnant."

Jack winced at the word and his hands cringed. He walked into the room and took the seat that his father had just moments ago. It was amazing just how similar they both were, how they had the same posture and stance. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"You mean, you're sorry for raping me, keeping me tied up, not letting me use my own will, and getting me pregnant?"

"Uh…yes."

"Well, doesn't that just make it all better? It makes it all go away, right?"

Jack looked as if I'd stabbed him right through his heart. "Well, what am I supposed to do now, Charlie? I can't go back in time and change what's already happened."

I flew up onto my feet and my eyes acted as daggers piercing through him. "You are…_so stupid_. You just don't get it, do you? I should be living my life like I wanted, you know, but I can't because of you being such an…_idiot!_ You're lucky I'm even deciding to care about your kid!"

"Maybe it's not even my kid!" he blurted. His eyes widened and gaped his mouth open a bit, realizing that he shouldn't have said that. Yeah, he _really_ shouldn't have said that.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Are you _FUCKING_ kidding me? Wow, you're just on a freaking _roll_ today!"

Jack hesitantly began rising out of his seat, holding a hand out to protect himself from any harm I'd send his way. "Charlie, I-I'm _sorry-"_

"You're not making it any better!"  
>That's when his hunter side flickered on. I saw icyness in his eyes and anger spreading across his face. "You're not <em>letting <em>me!" He took a step inward and held his head in near mine. I could have sworn I saw him snarl.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?" chimed in a voice. Doctor Merridew appeared at the doorway, followed by my mom.

"Nothing!" Jack cried, lowering his stance, taking a step back, and becoming civilized again.

"Don't freaking pretend!" I hollered.

My mom looked as if I'd offended her and exclaimed, "Language!"

"Mom, _please_! You don't even know what the situation is!"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure there's no need to curse, Charlotte!" she said.

"_This_ kid raped me and now _I'm_ pregnant!" I spout, jabbing my finger in Jack's direction. Silence. Silence. Silence.

"Is that true, Jack?" Doctor Merridew asked calmly. Jack stuttered.

"Of course it's not true!" my mom yelled. Yes, my mom. "She only says this stuff to get attention. Charlotte, you can't do this!"

"Mom, are you serious?" Her look of disbelief told me that she was quite serious. I pushed my open sweater wings aside and lifted my shirt just over my stomach. "See? Baby bump!" Jack whipped his head the other way, as if it was blinding him.

"You just gained some weight!" my mom retorted.

"Mrs. Davis, if you don't mind, I'd like to see what Jack has to say about this," Doctor Merridew interjected.

"He'll just lie to protect her, I know she put him up to it!" my mom yelled.

"Oh, dear lord," I murmured, massaging my eyes.

Jack looked incredibly uncomfortable and my mom looked completely pissed. Doctor Merridew looked a bit alarmed, but I knew that he had to stay calm because of his position as a psychologist.

"Actually, Mrs. Davis, I did-" Jack started before I interrupted him.

"No, no. You know what, let's go along with my mom. Let's say that I was the island _whore_ and it's all my fault I got pregnant. It's the only thing she'll believe!"

"May I interrupt?" Dr. Merridew said. "I'm sorry, but this is getting a little out of hand. I think that maybe we should all sit down and talk this through. May we?"


	3. Chapter 3

**So, what's up readers? How's it going? Here's another chapter, yes yes. Two in one day, ain't it special? I appreciate your reviews like my dog appreciates me leaving the trash can open. Which is very appreciated. This chapter ends at a random part, so sorry about that. But it's supposed to keep you wanting to read the next sentence in the next chapter. Then, hopefully, you'll be all "What the hell! I'll just read the rest of this thing." Yup, that's how I'm hoping it'll go. Don't own LOTF. If I did, I'd probably be rolling around in my brilliant glory. But I'm here instead. Amateur73 out!**

I sat on the farthest seat on the blue suede couch, and my mom sat on the other side, leaving a space in between. Jack sat in the chair parallel from his father's and he was looking very tense. Moments of silence passed before Dr. Merridew spoke up. "Okay. Why don't we start with talking about…schools and keeping or not keeping a relationship"

"I still don't believe her," my mom said.

"Mrs. Davis, I must say, in all my years of psychology, I've learned some about lying and tails, and I must say, this doesn't look like a lie or one that Charlie would make up. I've only talked to her for, well, not even a minute, but this is a rather large fib to make up. And she _looks_ quite convincing." My mom, however, still didn't seem as convinced. "Let's go along with it, just in case, wouldn't you say?" he asked. My mom rolled her eyes. There are those genes people say I inherit.

"Okay," Dr. Merridew murmured. "So, Charlie, even before we knew of this, your mother and I discussed a choice of school for you. Now, Jack's boarding school is quite prestigious-"

"Jack's school?" I interrupted. "Isn't there another school I could go to that's not _his_?"

"Well, you could, but I honestly think this is the best choice for you. It may be an all boys school, but-"

"_All boys school?_" I repeated. "It's sounding worse by the second!" Now, a few months ago I really wouldn't mind going to an all boys school. Most girls I know are bitches that care about everything in their perfect, fluffy world being just the right shades of pink, and those girls are usually the only ones I seem to find. Sure, I've found some cool girls, but only one or two. Guys always seem to be a little more fun and cooler. But boy did that island prove me wrong. I still liked playing around with guys, but I was now a bit jittery around them, ready to roundhouse kick them at any second.

"Please, hear me out," Dr. Merridew begged. "Your mother wasn't very keen on the idea, either, but here's why I think it's such a good choice for you: they give every student individual attention, despite their grade average; they have a great counselor, a personal friend of mine; it's not too far from here, only about 40 minutes; you could talk to me any time I go to visit Jack, assuming that I'm still your psychologist; and, Jack will still be going there. Which leads me to my next question: Will there still be any sort of relationship between you two?"

I glanced over at Jack, who was examining the bottom of his brown sweater. "I don't think so," I answered firmly.

"Don't you think it's the right thing to do, to make a decision and-"

"No," I repeated sternly.

"I'll, erm, I'll let you make that decision on your own," Dr. Merridew said. "As for your options-"

"Okay, you know what," I interrupted, my fingers shaking in frustration. "I really don't feel like talking about this. I'm out." Despite my mom calling for me to stop, I stormed out of the door and rushed down the hall, through the meeting room, and into another hallway.

I stomped on the carpet and heard quick steps coming up behind me. "Charlie!" cried the voice belonging to the feet. I didn't stop and they called again. Jack put his hand on my shoulder and I spun around, my arm flying in the same direction and missing Jack's gut by inches.

"Look, I'm really sorry-"

"Yeah, you're really sorry!" I interrupted him. "Look, Merridew, you can't just go around and say that you're sorry and you can't expect me to think that the asshole on the island is now a _completely_ different person! It doesn't work like that!"

"Charlie, the guy on the island _wasn't_ me! I was drunk with power and I know I was an asshole, but I completely changed back to my normal self once I stepped off that island! I mean, my dad's helped me and stuff. But I really think we should talk this through, considering that I'll probably be showing you around campus and school starts soon and-"

"No, no you won't. You won't show me around because I won't be going there, understand?"

Jack sighed. "Charlie, come on. You can't always think that stuff won't happen if it will!" His hunter side was coming back and it flickered in his eyes again.

"I-can't-handle this now," I muttered. I left Jack alone in the hallway and stormed out of the business building. I didn't know where my house was, or its address, but I knew the name of my favorite music store and my way home from there. With the money I had stuffed in my pocket, I called a cab and got home all by myself.

My mom eventually dropped me off at Beaufort Academy which, yes, belonged to the boys on the island, which included Jack and Roger. I came a day early because, apparently, I needed to get set up and ready more than any other student. My mom just dropped me off. That was it. With a bag full of money, she left me there without so much as taking me in, but I didn't really want her to.

I dragged my luggage into the office, despising my school uniform. I had a tan skirt and an oversized navy knit shirt (so my stomach wouldn't be so noticeable, but it wasn't big at all) that matched my navy sweater and blue knee-highs, not to mention my navy flats. A lady sat at her desk, gazing at her computer screen. My steps echoed through the eerie hallway as my feet tapped on the shiny beige-and-white tiled floor that reflected the shining lights above. I let my luggage skid to a stop as I approached the office woman.

"Hi, I'm Charlotte Emerson, I'm checking in," I greeted the red-headed lady at the desk, trying to keep myself from spitting the words.

"_Charlotte_ Emerson? This is an all-boys school," she said slowly, as if I was an idiot.

"I'm the _one exception_," I said just as slowly. The lady rolled her eyes and dialed her phone.

"Mr. Jones? There's a girl here, Charlotte Emerson, and she says she's checking in…okay…alright…I'll let her know. Thank you," and she clinked the phone. "Mr. Jones, the dean, is a little busy right now, but your student helper checked in yesterday is coming now to show you to your room and classes. He'll get you set up."

"Thank you," I muttered with a fake smile and I took a seat on a maroon chair, much like the one in Dr. Merridew's waiting room. How welcoming.

In only a few minutes, Jack showed up, completely decked out in his entire school uniform, choir cap and all. "Hello, Charlie," he greeted. "Welcome to Beaufort Academy. I have your information here and will gladly show you to your room-"

"Cut the crap and take my luggage," I muttered and I gave the humongous suitcase a kick in his direction.

He cleared his throat and said, "Sure."

We had the special privilege of using a golf cart around campus because of my "special circumstances." According to my mom, there would be lots of changes made just for me and the "mess" I made. Jack piled my luggage in the back and took the driver's seat.

"These are your classes with their buildings and a map," he said, handing over a few sheets of paper as I climbed in.

"Yeah, like I'll be going to those," I mumbled as I flipped through them.

"You know, it's my job to make sure that you get to your classes the first few times," he said.

"Well, now I'm _really_ not going."

Jack pointed out every building and listed each class of mine. "The dining hall is in there, which is open most of the day." "There's your math class with Professor Isovich." "Your English is in that building with Professor Brachmann." "And, finally, this is where your dorm is."

He took my luggage and used his own key to enter the building and elevator. "You're on the fifth floor, room 516, right down here. My room's this one, right down the hall, in case you need me."

"And in what horrible, apocalyptic situation would that be?" I spat.

"I, er…I don't know."

He clicked my room open with a key and then placed it on a dark wooden table. "There's your key for your room, along with the key for the building, dining hall, and elevator-"

"Yeah, I got it," I interrupted rather harshly. I opened my closet and stuffed my sweater in it. I glared at Jack as he still stood in my room. "Aren't you going to go?" I asked, lifting my luggage onto one of the two beds in my room. Only one would be occupied because my mom and Dr. Merridew pulled some strings to get me my own room.

"Let me help you with that," he said, reaching for the suitcase.

"No! No, I've got it!"

"You really shouldn't stress or do anything rough in your condition-"

I dropped the suitcase and it landed on Jack's foot with a thud; he gave a small squeal of pain. I wasn't even aiming for him, but I was completely pleased with where my heavy suitcase landed.

"You make me pissed, you know that?"

"Oh my god, Charlie, will you knock that off _please_?" he hollered. "I'm trying my best to patch things up, but all you talk about is how _shitty_ everything is and you never talk about how to get over it!"

I huffed and fell backward onto a bed, spreading my arms out. "I have reason not to listen to you."

"Well how can I make it better?" he asked, trying to stifle his fury. "Look, I know you'll never be able to fully trust me or ever completely forgive me, but please!"

"Why is it so damn important to you?"

"Because the kid could be mine and I feel so bad! I want to _help_!"

I straightened up and looked at Jack, who was sitting in a desk chair.

"You're a bastard, son of a bitch, ultimate dillhole, huge dick, asshole, and total douchebag. You do know that'd be a _lot_ to make up for, right?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, so, here's next chapter. Review please? Thanks, much appreciated. Oh, I did hear of a story like this, but I swear I didn't hear about it until I was a few chapters into my story. But I know, why should you believe this random author you found on fanfiction? But if you have the name of the story, I'd love to read it. Merci!**

"Does that mean you'll forgive me? Or, at least start to or…?" Jack asked.

"Hell no! But to start off, you need to stop acting like such a wuss. Got it?"

"Uh, sure," he mumbled uneasily.

"Now, tell me what there is to do around this prison," I demanded.

"Well, there's a mall a few miles away, town square, there's a lounge on every floor of each residence building-"

"Lame, lame, lame-" I interrupted. "God, I have nothing to do."

"You could always read. The library's in the-"

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen, school boy," I interrupted. He sighed. I smiled (something I hadn't done for a while) as an idea rose in my head. "There's gotta be music stores around here, right? Music stores with guitars and cool people?"

"Erm, there's a place called 'Strings,' that sells guitars." I slipped on my flats and grabbed my phone to fit it perfectly in my skirt pocket.

"You're taking me there," I said, also taking my room key.

"What?" Jack asked, stepping away from the door a bit. "I suppose we could, but it'd be against school rules because you're supposed to be here all day-"

"I really don't care," I interrupted with a short shake of my head.

He looked a bit skeptical at first, but he finally gave in. "All right. Fine, let's go. We've gotta get the keys from my room, first, though."

I nodded and we entered the hallway, locking my door. I followed Jack to his room and waited in the doorway while he fished for his car keys. "Hey, Charlie," drawled a voice. Behind the door emerged another boy decked out in his school uniform. He faced me and I glared into the dark eyes that I once saw stare at me through the island's tree leaves.

"Roger!" Jack yelled, obviously startled. "You weren't supposed be here until tomorrow! You don't have any special school position!"

"Yeah, well my mom left for Italy today and she needed to drop me off a day early," he answered without taking his eyes off of me. "So how've you been?" he asked.

"Pregnant, thank you very much," I muttered.

"Still? I thought you were getting an abortion."

"Hey, hey!" Jack interrupted as he came to stand between Roger and I. "I think we should _all_ talk about this. We're all involved, aren't we?" I gotta say, I think this problem-solving Jack was more annoying than island Jack.

"I'm not," Roger muttered. I swung my foot towards any body part of Roger's, but Jack stepped in just a little farther and I accidentally hit him in the leg. Roger snickered as Jack groaned in pain. "I don't give a shit what you do, just leave me out of it," Roger said.

"Like I'd _welcome_ you," I spat.

"Hey, play nice," Roger purred. "It's not like we can't work out when it's all over." He started to reach his hand around Jack to my waist but I slapped it down.

"I'll be waiting by the elevator, Jack," I muttered and I started to leave.

"So you're with Jack now?" Roger smiled creepily.

"Yeah, right," I smirked. "Like that would happen." I strode all the way to the elevator and waited for Jack who appeared within a few minutes.

"Sorry you had to see Roger," he apologized. "He, like almost everyone else, wasn't supposed to come until tomorrow."

"Whatever," I muttered.

Jack opened the door for me and we entered the guitar/music store. Guitars of all kinds lined the walls and reflective glass cases were filled with things like accessories and guitar picks.

"Hey," called a guy behind one of the glass cases who was marking some papers. "Welcome to Strings." The guy had black skater boy hair, a couple of ear piercings, and the complete rocker outfit, which was skinny jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Hey," I called back. I examined the guitars hanging on the walls of every color, shape, and size.

"So, what exactly do you do here?" Jack asked, shuffling on the dark purple carpet, not trying to hard to hide his bored tone.

"Well, at the store near my house, I used to play with the guys there, but this one doesn't look quite as busy. Looking at the guitars is pretty cool, though." I came across one electric guitar that was completely jet black except for its shiny silver neck. Jack must have noticed that I was gazing at that one in particular because he mentioned it.

"You like that one?"

"Hm?" I mumbled, slowly coming out of my trance. "Oh, yeah. I used to have a guitar, but my mom got rid of it. She thought it made 'too much noise.' It didn't look like this, though. This is sleek and cool." I tore my eyes away from it and continued to look through the other guitars.

"See one that you like?" asked the guy behind the glass cases.

"That black and silver one's pretty cool," I confessed to him as I began to examine the guitar picks.

"Yeah, that's one of my favorites. It's been here a while, but no one's bought it."

"Guess some people just don't understand a good guitar when they see one," I said. The guy cracked a smile and his cocoa brown eyes shined.

"I'm Chad, by the way. I own this place."

"It's pretty cool. Good variety."

"Heh heh, thanks. You, uh, you play?" he asked, cocking his head a bit.

"Since I was 11."

Chad raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Nice. I've played since I was 8. You know, there's always a couple of tricks to playing guitar. I'd love to show you sometime, my treat." He gave a sly smile and slid over a business card. "I'll give you my personal cell." He clicked his pen and started scribbling when Jack rushed over.

"She's pregnant," he blurted. Chad's hand froze and he looked up.

"Jack!" I yelled, elbowing him straight in the gut.

"Uh…" Chad murmured. "You know, I should probably start closing up-"

"It's 10:30 in the afternoon," I interrupted him.

"Yeah, well, I've got…um…exterminators coming! Yeah, been having a bit of a problem-"

"I haven't seen anything," I interrupted again.

"You know, there's personal family business I really need to attend to. I'm really sorry," Chad mumbled and he hurried off to the back room, taking his card and pen with him.

I watched until the back room's door fully closed before grabbing Jack by his shirt collar and dragging him outside.

"What the hell was that?" I hollered. "Have you already forgotten that I can _beat_ your sorry ass?" I let his shirt go and gave him a knee in the groin. He doubled over in pain, like so many other times, and then straightened up for his apology.

"I'm sorry, okay? I just don't want you doing anything when you're pregnant and it could be my kid!"

"You can't control my life just because you knocked me up!" I retorted.

Jack sighed. "Fine. I'm sorry, all right?"

"I," I exhaled deeply. "Am so pissed. And I'm taking the bus."

"No, Charlie, please don't," he pleaded. "It doesn't get very close to the school, you'll be walking too far! Just get a ride with me."

"Yeah, _you_ don't want me walking. I should change my mind because of what _you_ want."

"Please?" he repeated. "I'll do anything you want. Anything."

I stared at him for I don't know how long. I studied every freckle on his face, every bump on his nose, the gray-blue shade of his begging eyes and wondered what I could ask of him.

"No. I refuse. I'm still trying to figure out why I let you _bring_ me here."

"Well, at least you know you can trust me, right?" he cried.

"_Ha! _Yeah, right. I tend to have a hard time trusting assholes. Here you come, charging into my life like you didn't do enough _already_, and you _say_ you're making everything better, but you're only making it worse!" I could tell from the expression on his white face that I was cutting deep into his "feelings," as if he could have those. "Look Jack, just…just get lost."

I turned on my heels and started towards the corner. "Charlie, just stop!" Jack yelled, and I could hear his feet pounding against the pavement to follow me. I couldn't stand this anymore, I couldn't stand _him_ anymore.

"I said _fuck off!_" I barked. That stopped him. I didn't turn to see what horrible expression he had on his face, like one of those ugly wrinkly dogs that had just been kicked. I turned the street corner and walked into one of the businesses to find bus and taxi information. And that's how I got back to school.

**A/N: By the way, no offense to dogs! I don't really find any dogs ugly, that's just Charlie speaking, so don't pelt me offensive notes about me being some cruel dog hater. I mean, you can if you include a story review. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Guys, this is turning out AWFULLY. I think I know where I'm going with the story (Yes, "think". I'm a great planner, aren't I?), but this is just turning out stiff. Anyway, feel free to send in reviews. The button's right there. Right. There.**

The bus I took wasn't actually that bad of a ride. I was the only one riding, except for the bus driver, obviously. Eventually, I managed to find my building and room. I completely locked myself in my dorm for the rest of the day, blasting my earbuds and going to get food from the dining hall or vending machine every once in a while (like, once every hour with the pregnancy kicks).

The next morning, I got a rather rude awakening at my door. Someone was knocking feverently and I refused to answer. Surprisingly, the door opened and Jack walked into my room.

"Get out!" I mumbled, flinging my pillow at him and smacking him in the face.

"You're late for your class!" he cried.

"Big whoop."

He walked over and tugged on my sheets, which I clung onto tightly. "I can't leave until I get you to class," he informed me.

"Then you'll be here all day, because I didn't go to class before and I won't now, ya jackass." He really had some nerve after yesterday, when I specifically told him to fuck off.

Jack gave an exasperated sigh and let go of the sheets. "Don't make me go into your closet and get your unif-"

"NO!" I hollered and I leapt out of my bed, stumbling a bit on my feet. My closet is for me and me only. Boys aren't meant to see girl undergarments, at least not in that fashion. "Damn you," I muttered as I smacked him hard in the chest and he smirked. "Now get out."

"I'll be outside waiting for you to come out," he warned and he left and closed my door. Really, it was as if he'd completely forgotten about yesterday, like nothing ever happened. Well I certainly didn't forget.

Five minutes later, I emerged from my room with my uniform on and my backpack slung over one shoulder. "Well?" I murmured, noticing him standing in anticipation. "What are you still here for? I made it real clear that I'd rather you _not_ be in my face."

Whatever traces Jack had of a smile (or happiness, for that matter) faded. He was probably recalling yesterday's events (finally. Idiot.). "This is for school purposes, so I am obligated to follow you to your first class."

My eyes narrowed at him. "I'll get by just fine on my own."

My morning consisted of math, biology, English, and literature all before lunch. I saw some boys from the island, who usually looked at me uneasily and quickly started talking to their surrounding peers, glancing at me every once in a while during the conversation. A few of the boys I saw were Ralph, Roger, Bill, Maurice, and Jack.

I walked over to the dining hall when time came and piled the food onto my tray before finding an empty table. I barely sat down when Jack came and took the seat next to me.

"So, how's your morning been?" he asked, picking at a lumpy piece of cheese pizza that looked rather unappetizing.

"Why are you stalking me when I specifically asked for you to bug off?"

"Well, I think you said it in a ruder way than that, but I'm still in charge of making sure you day was okay. It's standard procedure," he answered.

" 'Standard procedure,' is it? Well, I'm sure you know what _my_ standard procedure is, as your private area has been the victim many times. Should I follow that, too?"

"Fine, I'll just get to the point, if it'll make you that much happier," he muttered, no longer acting as a perfect model student. "I think we should go to the doctor."

I stopped chewing my fat cheeseburger and purposely dropped it on my plate. "Why should we go to the _doctor_, and why should _we_ go to the doctor?"

"I sort of thought there should be check ups, you know? For the…uh…baby," he said, as if the word _baby_ was sour medicine.

"Yeah, I don't know if I'm really up for that."

"This is important, Charlie. I really think we should do this-"

"Listen," I interrupted, getting officially flustered. "I'm glad you're having such fun time playing _Daddy_, but you don't have to and I don't want to. Got it?" Before I could listen to him talk again, I grabbed the rest of my burger and dropped off the tray before heading outside. Really, who the hell does he think he is? I'm pretty sure he wasn't supposed to act like this. Like, _really_ sure.

After the school day, I grabbed a bag of chips from a vending machine and went up to my room. I was jiggling the lock when a figure appeared next to me. "How was your first day?" he breathed close into my face. I jumped back and faced Roger, who was smiling and leaning against the wall.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

"Calm down," he drawled stepping in closer to me. "Just to talk, and should anything else happen, so be it."

I sighed and continued to try to open my door. "So how's everything been?" he asked.

"Perfectly stupid."

"You know, you can always come to me for any…needs," he whispered, rubbing my arm, which I snatched back. "Or…problems."

"Yeah, if I ever feel like being murdered, I'll be sure to ring you up. Why won't this damn door open?" I cried. He leaned his back against the door before completely embracing me in a full-out kiss. His hands ran around my waist and the small of my back and his firey breath slipped into my body. The kiss was probably stiff for him because of, well, obvious reasons like doing things against my will by him.

"Get off me," I commanded with a hard shove as I tried to get the foul taste of Roger out of my mouth. I glared at him, but he only smirked and half-grinned.

"Woah, relax. You can't deny that there's something between us. I can feel it, you can feel it," he exhaled.

"Sorry, I don't fall in love with sociopaths."

"Fine. Just know I'll always be here," he whispered. He turned and started heading back to his room when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "By the way, your room's the next one over."

So, Roger was right about my room being a different door. I entered and had barely flopped myself on the bed when I heard a knock on my door. "Go away, Roger," I called.

"It's Jack," said a muffled voice.

"Okay, go away, Jack."

"Come on, please open the door?"

Grudgingly, I forced myself off of the bed and swung the door open. "Can I come in?" he asked.

"May as well, it'll only make you a closer target," I muttered, sprawling myself on the bed again.

Okay, so by this time, I was a bit calmed down after yesterday. So I didn't get a date with some hot guy who worked at the guitar store. Big deal. He'd end up realizing I was pregnant at some point.

"Why'd you ask if I Roger? Did he talk to you?" Jack asked rather jumpily.

"Yeah, quick conversation in the hallway. Whatever."

"I see you haven't taken out your homework yet," he observed, noticing my perfectly zipped up backpack and empty, shiny desk.

"And I certainly don't plan to."

Jack looked rather confused. "Why not?"

"Because it's crap, that's why. I shouldn't have to and I won't."

"Charlie," he murmured, sitting in the desk chair. "You don't really like your mother very much, do you?"

I smirked. From the few moments Jack had seen me with my mom, I think that was pretty obvious. "That's right."

"Well then I'm guessing you don't want to go back to her." That was true, I really didn't want to. I'd rather throw myself into a pit full of lions, thank you very much. "So you should do well in class if you want to stay at this school. You'll have to in order to stay."

I straightened up. School boy had a point. If I _had_ to choose between the two places, I'd pick the school. It'd be away from my family. Jack didn't wait for me to reply. "I, er, I got something for you," he said. He stepped outside the doorway and reached for something he's put against the wall and out of my sight. He brought it inside, revealing it to be a guitar. The very guitar that I saw the day before at Strings.

"What the hell…" I murmured as he held it out to me.

"It's for you."

I grasped the shiny black and silver guitar in my hand that had been neatly polished. I was speechless for a few seconds as I stared at its awesomeness. "I don't know if I should be happy that you got me this or pissed that you think I can't get my own stuff if I want it," I said.

"I was kind of hoping for a happy reaction," he confessed with a wobbly smile. I still wasn't sure which reaction to give, so I reached for my trash can and barfed in it instead. When I looked up, Jack was looking both uneasy and a bit hopeful.

"Thanks," I murmured as I examined the guitar's strings and Jack placed a silver guitar pick on the bed. "You know what, I'm going to go and brush the vomit out of my mouth," I said as I grabbed my toothbrush and walked over to the bathroom.

It was pretty awkward using the boys' bathroom, especially whenever I walked in on one using the urinals. They'd give a small squeak, and I'm pretty sure they sprayed a little bit. "Relax, I'm not looking!" I'd call to them. But sometimes, just for fun, I'd add in, "But yours is quite small."

Anyway, I mainly rushed off to the bathroom because I wanted to get away from Jack. Now I just felt awkward with him. On the island, he was this awful, bloody hunter that raped me, but off the island, he was this boy who tried to be sweetly nice, almost too nice. Either way, I despised both Jacks with a passion.

I shuffled back to my room and stopped in the doorway when I saw Jack sitting at the desk chair.

"Oh…you're still here," I grumbled and leaned on the opened door.

"Yeah. Uh… Have you given the doctor thing any more thought?"

"Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I hate the idea. Want me to 'give it any more thought'?"

Jack squeezed the sheets on the bed, in frustration, I suppose. "Charlie, I don't know what else to say except that I'm sorry, I got the guitar as a kind of peace offering. You know I'm not going to rest until you give in."

"I've realized that you're that stubborn, yes."

"Well then just say yes! Please!"

"Will you get off my goddamn back if I go?" I blurted. I couldn't listen to this punk whine on and on. Besides, a couple of appointments couldn't hurt, right? I suppose it _was_ sensible.

"Yes!" Jack cried, smiling. "I'll get off your back, truly!" If Jack was actually going through the trouble of getting me that guitar and coming to my room without mugging me (and apologizing a thousand times), I figured I should give him a break. DON'T think that this was me loosening up. I was just trying not to act like my mom, who's even more stubborn than me.

"Yeah," I answered. "But one thing: how exactly are we going to pay for it?"

"I have a lot of family money!" Jack tried to assure me. "That'll be fine!"

"No, Jack. I can't just use your family's money for it, it'll be way too much to take. Besides, I don't want anyone to know."

"Erm, okay," he mumbled. That was obviously his one and only plan. "I suppose I could always get a job." He didn't seem to like that idea at all, but he tried to pass it off as acceptable. It would have to do.

"I think we'll _both_ have to get jobs. For the first appointment or two, I can use the money I already have, but it won't cover the rest. One job _cannot_ support." Listen to me talk about supporting pregnancy check ups. I wasn't supposed to be talking about this at age 16, I should have been talking with my friends about the best bands and which song beat out which and playing at gigs.

"Do you really think it's necessary-"

"Yes, it's necessary! I refuse to take any money, okay? It's the only way I'll do this."

Jack looked torn between his decisions, and finally agreed. "Fine. I'm going to make an appointment for this Saturday, all right?"

I nodded and he gave a small wave before heading back to his room. I was left by myself, pretty much regretting the decision I had just made. It all went too fast for me to realize that it would be just me and Jack at the doctor's office. And you know what I did? I took out my homework.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, guys, whatever. I'm just gonna stop going on about how I feel about my story cause it just sounds like I'm complaining. So, okay. This is a kinda empty chapter, but I'll updating again soon.**

Saturday came fast, faster than I wanted it to. I slipped on a pair of skinny jeans (which weren't making me look so skinny anymore) and high top converse along with a loose t-shirt with the print of England's flag as the design and my black hoodie. Jack came to my door at 9:30 sharp (if you count 10 minutes late as sharp) to take me to the appointment.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I muttered. "Don't make me regret this any more than I already do."

Jack lead me into the clinic and approached the shiny white desk at the front. "Checking in for Merridew," he said.

"Ah, yes, Jack and Charlotte Merridew, correct?" asked the lady dressed in plain purple scrubs.

"Actually," I cut Jack off before he could say anything. "It's Jack Merridew and Charlotte Emerson."

"My mistake," the woman apologized, click-clicking the correction into the computer (I hoped). "Doctor Reynolds will be ready in just a few minutes, you can take a seat."

As Jack and I walked to a pair of seats, I whispered, "You said Charlotte _Merridew_?"

"I forgot your last name when I called, I'm sorry!"

I gave him a smack on his chest with the back of my hand and sank into a chair. "You idiot," I insulted. Jack was officially the dumbest person I'd ever met. There weren't very many people in the room, but the ones who were were giving us disapproving looks, and I'd send a sneer their way.

"Emerson and Merridew?" eventually called a nurse who was peeking out of the door after what felt like forever.

"Why did I agree to do this again?" I whispered to Jack as we approached the nurse. He said nothing but let me enter first and follow the nurse into a room.

The room was so incredibly white that it reminded me of an insane asylum (which it may as well have been). The floors, the walls, the lights were all a blinding, shimmering shade of snow. A brown carpeted chair sat on one side of an exam chair (or table or whatever it's called) and a doctor's rolling chair sat on the other side.

"The doctor will be in soon," the nurse informed us before leaving us. I sat on the exam table and played with the zipper on my hoodie. Jack sat on the carpeted chair next to me.

"Feel free to sit in one of those chairs over there…farther from me," I said, obviously pointing to two chairs next to the door.

"I'm all right right here, thank you," Jack said with a mocking smile. I could feel an awkward tension in the silence. My eyes lingered to the floor with designs of tiny specks which I studied. How long was I going to be locked in here for? The sooner I was out, the better, which was the only thing I could think of. The sooner I could get out of everything. The door clicked open with a creak.

A woman with sandy blonde hair pulled into a pony tail stepped in. She blended in perfectly with the room with her white labcoat and pale pants. "Hello, I'm Dr. Reynolds," she greeted with a smile. "You must be Charlotte, and you must be Jack." She shook each of our hands and plopped in the doctor's chair. Dr. Reynolds asked some general questions about how I've been and all of that crap, which I answered quite blandly. Eventually she came to one of the big questions. "So, how far along are you?" she asked.

"Er, I'm not sure," I confessed. I couldn't help but think about how there was this awkwardness I probably wasn't going to be able to shrug off.

"That's alright, we'll find that out. The happens often, don't worry. So, is Jack the father?"

"Uh, yeah, about that," I mumbled. She raised her eyebrows and waited for me to continue. "Is there a way we can get a paternity test, uh, as soon as possible?" I didn't ask Jack about this, but I didn't need to. My uterus, my decision.

"There is a test you can do at 12 weeks pregnant," she told me. She explained the requirements of DNA and the cost, which was $1,200 dollars. I glanced at Jack, who I'm sure was worrying about the cost.

"I think we'll be doing that," I said.

She nodded. "Well, first, let's find out how far along you are. Lift up your shirt, please."

I glared at Jack when he wouldn't turn away, but I lifted my shirt just over my stomach anyway. She squeezed blue gel out of a tube and its coldness caused me to wince a little. I felt utterly stupid as she turned on the ultrasound and began swishing the gel around with the electric-thingy that reminded me of a computer mouse. Something came up on the monitor and, before I knew it, we were all looking at a small fetus-shaped speck.

Sharp breaths were drawn from all of us, especially Jack.

"I'd say about eight weeks," Dr. Reynolds informed.

"_Eight_?" I repeated. "That's, uh…that's kind of long."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. So just four weeks until you can take that paternity test, if you're interested."

What I really liked about this doctor was that she didn't judge, or at least she didn't show it. She didn't give a disapproving look or click her tongue, just talked to me like normal. As normal as I could go, anyway. She offered to step out of the room to give us a moment, but Jack and I quickly declined.

Dr. Reynolds told me the usual things, like don't strain to much and stuff. Jack seemed like he was the only one paying attention, but I'm pretty sure he was faking it. Finally, the time came for my escape- er, I mean, exit.

"Well, that was lovely," I mumbled sarcastically as I crawled into Jack's car.

"It wasn't…that bad," he said, sticking his keys into the ignition. But I knew he was lying. He wasn't enjoying it that much more than I was. The car rumbled on and glided out of the parking building. I crossed my arms and leaned my head against the glass that revealed the murky day outside. I hated this. I despised this all. My fists clenched through most of the car ride until we reached the school, and I found the white nail marks on my hand.

I trudged through the campus until we'd reached our building. "I grabbed a paper for jobs, you know," he said right before we'd reached his room. "I think it'd be good to go over it now, you know, get it out of the way."

I sighed. "_Now?_" I whined, as if I was three (I resisted the urge to stomp my foot). Jack's pale eyes almost seemed to be begging (almost). I was really drying this guy's patience, and I knew we'd almost reached drought point. I shook the infant out of myself and said, "Sure. My room in five minutes." I really needed to shape myself up, which is something I _never_ tell myself. Ever.

He smiled and unlocked the door to his room while I stepped to my own. I kicked off my shoes and sat on my unmade bed. My new guitar was sitting in a corner, still unplayed. _Unplayed_. I sat and debated as to whether I should play it or not. On one hand, it was a brand new freakin' guitar that looked completely and utterly awesome. On the other hand, it _was _Jack that gave it to me. I shook my head, not being able to believe myself. Was I really going to avoid playing just because he gave it to me? I was seriously starting to freak myself out over how much I was acting like my mother. Had I always been like this? But then again, using his guitar could be like a sign that I was loosening on him and as if I needed his help. I sat on my bed, my back against the wall, and just stared at the guitar. So shiny. Calling my name. So shiny. _Brand new_. Shiny.

I didn't even get to make my decision because in a minute or two (apparently, my self debates can last a very long time) Jack rapped at my door. "May I?" he asked, referring to entry. I gave him a glare, as if determining whether I let him or not, and finally dragged myself out of the doorway. Jack tossed the paper on the desk and began flipping through it.

Eventually, we reached the conclusion of me being a store clerk and Jack being a waiter at a close place called "Tom's Cavern."

"Well, this can't be that bad can it?" Jack offered.


	7. Chapter 7

**HEY! I want to SO thank SideshowJazz1! You've always reviewed every chapter and it's AWESOME! So, let's see how this one went, eh guys?**

**FYI, this is the chapter I changed a little bit, if you already read it. So… no, you're not insane. Yet.**

"Oh, you had your interview today! How'd it go?" I asked Jack as I was sitting in the chair of his desk. The week after we found our jobs in the newspapers, we set out for interviews. Mine was the day before his, and, because the store was desperate, they hired me on the spot. The pay wasn't _that_ bad, at least. Yes, I know how to play nice. I sucked it up enough to make a good enough impression. At this point, I had been talking with Jack for about a half hour in his room and recalled that he had his job interview only two or three hours. Yes, I know, you may be shocked I was actually talking to Jack. Well, you know, getting someone pregnant sometimes makes the two come together at specific times. Lovely, isn't it?

"Oh, pretty well, if I do say so myself," he smirked. "Please, Charlie, I've got this. Years of experience _do_ come in handy."

I gave a small, painful smile. Then it was silent. I think both Jack and I were probably thinking what would happen if he didn't get this job. However, I think we'd both have to be complete dumbasses to not even get hired the the local McDonalds, or something (if the kid who thought Green Day was a synonym for Saturday could get a job there, so could I). But, weren't we lucky that Roger came in to save this moment.

"Ah, I thought that was your car, Jack," Roger said, slinking into the room. "You were just at Tom's Cavern, weren't you?"

I could have sworn I heard a hiss accenting each "s." "Yes, why?" Jack asked, eyeing me. He was obviously cautiously watching to see if I'd lunge at Roger (which I was honestly thinking about).

"Well, what do you know, I was applying there, too. Maybe we'll work together, just like old times."

I could see a glint in Jack's eyes as he revisted old memories with Roger that I probably didn't want to know about (I bet they involved more than a few playboys and a pair of binoculars, if you know what I mean). Roger set his large paper bag in his closet and looked me in the eye for the first time since he entered. "What about you Charlie? You getting a job there? I know you've got a lot to support."

I bit my tongue and just shook my head. Roger smirked and shut his closet door. How dare that ass even bring it up when he knows he's supposed to help. Douche. He was literally asking for my foot to be deeply shoved into his pathetic ass. "I'm heading out, Jack," I muttered, stepping out the door. I heard Roger say, "So soon?"

"Sorry, but I think I have some cyanide to drink."

I huffed and flopped face first onto my bed. It was currently 12:30 at night on Friday (or, techincally Saturday, I guess) and I just got home from an extra-long shift. It'd been one week with my job (two weeks since my first doctor's appointment). Say what you will, being a store clerk can be extremely tiring. Don't give me any shit. A dim lamp lit my room, which didn't help me to stay awake, considering my eyes were already heavy as dumbbells. I hardly got a minute of serenity (at least, I think it was just a minute if my mind didn't play one of those freaky just-skipped-a-whole-hour tricks) when my unlocked door clicked open and Jack stepped in. "Charlie?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Mmph," I muffled through my sheets.

"Did you just get here?"

"Mmph."

Jack shuffled over and rolled me over onto my back. He wasn't looking too great, himself. We'd both been working every spare minute, causing bags to form under each of our eyes. Of course, he probably just woke up, too, which didn't help. "Charlie, you've been working since 6 in the morning!"

"Yes, and I'm ever so gleeful about it," I muttered. I could have been mouthing off about Jack not working as much as me, but I knew that he didn't get back until pretty late the day before.

"You have to tell your boss you can't stay this late, not in your condition."

"But, but…I have money!" I held up a wad of cash and looked at it dreamily. Wow, I really _was_ out of it. "And I need…a…goddamn shower." I heaved up and stumbled on my feet. Jack blocked my path and grabbed my shoulders forcefully.

"No, sit, get in bed," he ordered, taking a step towards my mess of a bed and trying to steer me in the same direction.

"No!" I declared, trying to step around him and causing my head to spin a bit. I was now facing a gray blur with spots of barely visible freckles and a smoosh of red on top. "I need a shower and you can't stop me! Moooooove…" I literally fell asleep in Jack's grasp, but only for a second or two.

"Woah, no. You'll get it in the morning-"

"It _is_ morning!" I groaned. And that's when blackness overtook my head and sight.

I woke up under my sheets, still in my work uniform. It took me a second or two to recall how I got there exactly, and I remembered Jack coming in, but I don't remember going to sleep or getting into my bed for that matter. I glanced at the clock, which was flashing 9:00 A.M. That late shift really hit me, but apparently I didn't wake up late. Late is pretty much the only time I awaken, so that only added to the abnormality that morning. I groaned and walked my grimy feeling self to the bathroom, where the boys were shrieking and darting out of the bathroom.

"Give it a rest!" I called out to them when they were already halfway down the hallway. The showers were a pale blue color and the floors were white tiled. You'd expect the boys' bathroom to be in absolute crappy condition, but it actually wasn't too bad. Mine has been worse, like my bedroom. Even hurricane Katrina would shake its head at that disaster. The rules there were pretty strict, I guess.

I turned the water on and felt it spritz. My stomach was now more protruding and I gave it a poke. Yes, a poke. Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? It was freaky!

I thought about how much I missed my bed. How long had it been, 20 minutes? What can I say, long distance relationships are hard to deal with. The sheets felt so soft, the pillow so warm… which reminded me, I didn't remember getting into my bed last night. I just remembered being tired, like I hadn't slept in years. So wouldn't I have just collapsed on the floor? I mean, I know I've been known for sleep walking, but I've never been responsible for sleep walking _into_ bed. So… how did I get so tightly packed in my sheets? Well, there was Jack, but Jack didn't do anything. He couldn't have.

THAT SON OF A BITCH HE DID.

I quickly finished my shower and pulled on my clothes before storming out into the hall, and I'm pretty sure wisps of lightning flowed behind me. I pounded my fist on his door repeatedly. "Jack! Jack! JACK!"

"Hey, Charlie!" he called. He peeked out from the doorway to my own room. "I was just looking for you-"

"Stay! There!" I ordered, rushing over and shoving him hard into my room. "What happened last night? Why did I wake up in my bed, let alone in my _sheets_? How did that happen, huh? _What did you do_?"

"Hold on, hold on!" he cried, holding his hand out. When I shoved him, he ended up landing on my bed and jittered back. "Give me a second! Bloody hell, you just started getting so damn furious! You came home late from your work last night and were passing out standing up –and you _did_ pass out, might I add. So I moved you over to your bed and shifted you around just so-"

"You _put_ me in my bed?" I hollered. "But you didn't have any right to do that! Who the hell decides to just _pick up_ a girl and just tuck her in? I don't want you near me like that! That is UNCALLED for!" Yes, I said "uncalled for." Those British, man, they can really take a toll on your vocabulary.

"Well, it's not like I bloody _manhandled_ you or something-"

"Ha! Says who? For all I know, you could have. You think now that because you 'handled' me before you can just do it whenever you want, like you have some sort of _permission_ now?

"I'm not _saying_ that! I'm sorry, I honestly thought I was just _helping_!" Jack said, already past the verge of yelling. We both weren't so patient at this point. "I shouldn't even let you go out that late! You know bloody well _I_ can take care of all of this! I can make the payments for the appointments, for the damn paternity test-" he testified, puffing his chest out a bit. The way he did when he told everyone he could lead the island with that stupid spear of his. Yeah, right.

"That is so not true!" I argued. "You know it, too! _I_ work later than you, _I_ work more days-"

"As if you have _everything_ to do! I work longer than you do! And I had to get the bloody newspaper for the jobs and _I_ have put up with everything you throw at me, by the way! You're not the goddamn easiest person to deal with, you know!"

"Oh, yeah, like you're some kind of care giver who has to deal with the crazy bitch and all her crap! You're not dealing with the freakin person growing inside you!" The words tasted sour like poison drooling out of my mouth. "God, Jack, you pretend like you're some kind of _man_, but we both know that you're not acting like one and you never did!"

Jack's hunter nostrils flared and he flung the door open before stomping out and swinging it shut with a _slam_.

That was far. That was _far_. And I knew it. Calling Jack Merridew anything less than a man was the rock bottom. But he went far, too. I just didn't want him lifting me or carrying me or _moving_ me like that anymore, I couldn't handle it. That didn't turn out so well the first time, in case you don't remember, and it was my job to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.

"Oh, you had your interview today! How'd it go?" I asked Jack as I was sitting in the chair of his desk. The week after we found our jobs in the newspapers, we set out for interviews. Mine was the day before his, and, because the store was desperate, they hired me on the spot. The pay wasn't _that_ bad, at least. Yes, I know how to play nice. I sucked it up enough to make a good enough impression. At this point, I had been talking with Jack for about a half hour in his room and recalled that he had his job interview only two or three hours. Yes, I know, you may be shocked I was actually talking to Jack. Well, you know, getting someone pregnant sometimes makes the two come together at specific times. Lovely, isn't it?

"Oh, pretty well, if I do say so myself," he smirked. "Please, Charlie, I've got this. Years of experience _do_ come in handy."

I gave a small, painful smile. Then it was silent. I think both Jack and I were probably thinking what would happen if he didn't get this job. However, I think we'd both have to be complete dumbasses to not even get hired the the local McDonalds, or something (if the kid who thought Green Day was a synonym for Saturday could get a job there, so could I). But, weren't we lucky that Roger came in to save this moment.

"Ah, I thought that was your car, Jack," Roger said, slinking into the room. "You were just at Tom's Cavern, weren't you?"

I could have sworn I heard a hiss accenting each "s." "Yes, why?" Jack asked, eyeing me. He was obviously cautiously watching to see if I'd lunge at Roger (which I was honestly thinking about).

"Well, what do you know, I was applying there, too. Maybe we'll work together, just like old times."

I could see a glint in Jack's eyes as he revisted old memories with Roger that I probably didn't want to know about (I bet they involved more than a few playboys and a pair of binoculars, if you know what I mean). Roger set his large paper bag in his closet and looked me in the eye for the first time since he entered. "What about you Charlie? You getting a job there? I know you've got a lot to support."

I bit my tongue and just shook my head. Roger smirked and shut his closet door. How dare that ass even bring it up when he knows he's supposed to help. Douche. He was literally asking for my foot to be deeply shoved into his pathetic ass. "I'm heading out, Jack," I muttered, stepping out the door. I heard Roger say, "So soon?"

"Sorry, but I think I have some cyanide to drink."

I huffed and flopped face first onto my bed. It was currently 12:30 at night on Friday (or, techincally Saturday, I guess) and I just got home from an extra-long shift. It'd been one week with my job (two weeks since my first doctor's appointment). Say what you will, being a store clerk can be extremely tiring. Don't give me any shit. A dim lamp lit my room, which didn't help me to stay awake, considering my eyes were already heavy as dumbbells. I hardly got a minute of serenity (at least, I think it was just a minute if my mind didn't play one of those freaky just-skipped-a-whole-hour tricks) when my unlocked door clicked open and Jack stepped in. "Charlie?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Mmph," I muffled through my sheets.

"Did you just get here?"

"Mmph."

Jack shuffled over and rolled me over onto my back. He wasn't looking too great, himself. We'd both been working every spare minute, causing bags to form under each of our eyes. Of course, he probably just woke up, too, which didn't help. "Charlie, you've been working since 6 in the morning!"

"Yes, and I'm ever so gleeful about it," I muttered. I could have been mouthing off about Jack not working as much as me, but I knew that he didn't get back until pretty late the day before.

"You have to tell your boss you can't stay this late, not in your condition."

"But, but…I have money!" I held up a wad of cash and looked at it dreamily. Wow, I really _was_ out of it. "And I need…a…goddamn shower." I heaved up and stumbled on my feet. Jack blocked my path and grabbed my shoulders forcefully.

"No, sit, get in bed," he ordered, taking a step towards my mess of a bed and trying to steer me in the same direction.

"No!" I declared, trying to step around him and causing my head to spin a bit. I was now facing a gray blur with spots of barely visible freckles and a smoosh of red on top. "I need a shower and you can't stop me! Moooooove…" I literally fell asleep in Jack's grasp, but only for a second or two.

"Woah, no. You'll get it in the morning-"

"It _is_ morning!" I groaned. And that's when blackness overtook my head and sight.

I woke up under my sheets, still in my work uniform. It took me a second or two to recall how I got there exactly, and I remembered Jack coming in, but I don't remember going to sleep or getting into my bed for that matter. I glanced at the clock, which was flashing 9:00 A.M. That late shift really hit me, but apparently I didn't wake up late. Late is pretty much the only time I awaken, so that only added to the abnormality that morning. I groaned and walked my grimy feeling self to the bathroom, where the boys were shrieking and darting out of the bathroom.

"Give it a rest!" I called out to them when they were already halfway down the hallway. The showers were a pale blue color and the floors were white tiled. You'd expect the boys' bathroom to be in absolute crappy condition, but it actually wasn't too bad. Mine has been worse, like my bedroom. Even hurricane Katrina would shake its head at that disaster. The rules there were pretty strict, I guess.

I turned the water on and felt it spritz. My stomach was now more protruding and I gave it a poke. Yes, a poke. Well, what the hell else was I supposed to do? It was freaky!

I thought about how much I missed my bed. How long had it been, 20 minutes? What can I say, long distance relationships are hard to deal with. The sheets felt so soft, the pillow so warm… which reminded me, I didn't remember getting into my bed last night. I just remembered being tired, like I hadn't slept in years. So wouldn't I have just collapsed on the floor? I mean, I know I've been known for sleep walking, but I've never been responsible for sleep walking _into_ bed. So… how did I get so tightly packed in my sheets? Well, there was Jack, but Jack didn't do anything. He couldn't have.

THAT SON OF A BITCH HE DID.

I quickly finished my shower and pulled on my clothes before storming out into the hall, and I'm pretty sure wisps of lightning flowed behind me. I pounded my fist on his door repeatedly. "Jack! Jack! JACK!"

"Hey, Charlie!" he called. He peeked out from the doorway to my own room. "I was just looking for you-"

"Stay! There!" I ordered, rushing over and shoving him hard into my room. "What happened last night? Why did I wake up in my bed, let alone in my _sheets_? How did that happen, huh? _What did you do_?"

"Hold on, hold on!" he cried, holding his hand out. When I shoved him, he ended up landing on my bed and jittered back. "Give me a second! Bloody hell, you just started getting so damn furious! You came home late from your work last night and were passing out standing up –and you _did_ pass out, might I add. So I moved you over to your bed and shifted you around just so-"

"You _put_ me in my bed?" I hollered. "But you didn't have any right to do that! Who the hell decides to just _pick up_ a girl and just tuck her in? I don't want you near me like that! That is UNCALLED for!" Yes, I said "uncalled for." Those British, man, they can really take a toll on your vocabulary.

"Well, it's not like I bloody _manhandled_ you or something-"

"Ha! Says who? For all I know, you could have. You think now that because you 'handled' me before you can just do it whenever you want, like you have some sort of _permission_ now?

"I'm not _saying_ that! I'm sorry, I honestly thought I was just _helping_!" Jack said, already past the verge of yelling. We both weren't so patient at this point. "I shouldn't even let you go out that late! You know bloody well _I_ can take care of all of this! I can make the payments for the appointments, for the damn paternity test-" he testified, puffing his chest out a bit. The way he did when he told everyone he could lead the island with that stupid spear of his. Yeah, right.

"That is so not true!" I argued. "You know it, too! _I_ work later than you, _I_ work more days-"

"As if you have _everything_ to do! I work longer than you do! And I had to get the bloody newspaper for the jobs and _I_ have put up with everything you throw at me, by the way! You're not the goddamn easiest person to deal with, you know!"

"Oh, yeah, like you're some kind of care giver who has to deal with the crazy bitch and all her crap! You're not dealing with the freakin person growing inside you!" The words tasted sour like poison drooling out of my mouth. "God, Jack, you pretend like you're some kind of _man_, but we both know that you're not acting like one and you never did!"

Jack's hunter nostrils flared and he flung the door open before stomping out and swinging it shut with a _slam_.

That was far. That was _far_. And I knew it. Calling Jack Merridew anything less than a man was the rock bottom. But he went far, too. I just didn't want him lifting me or carrying me or _moving_ me like that anymore, I couldn't handle it. That didn't turn out so well the first time, in case you don't remember, and it was my job to make sure nothing like that ever happened again.


	8. Chapter 8

**So, this one's kind of short. But ANYHOO. Reviews? Please? I'll, uh…give you a virtual cookie? Authors do that kind of stuff all of the time and they seem to get more reviews. Grazie!**

I didn't work on Saturdays, my one day off. However, that was Jack's busiest night at the restaurant. I spent the day flipping through my songs, doodling skateboard designs, and messing around on the internet. After my shower and such, I had the hardest time falling asleep, tossing and turning. It was 2:00 in the morning, and I was still wide awake, when I took out my earbuds to think long enough to hear loud thumping around in the hallway accompanied by muffled giggling.

I stepped outside my door to find Jack dragging himself along the wall, alone. "Psst!" he hissed loudly and clumisly. "Charlie! Hey, Charlie, come here!" His words sounded somewhat slurred, but I rolled my eyes and went up to him as he started falling down the wall. He nearly dropped to the floor but caught himself and drooped to one side like a wet noodle. "I have something to tell you!" he whispered. Jack steadied himself on my shoulders, no matter how hard to tried to step out of place, and put his mouth close to my ear.

"Charlie, you were m_ea_n today! You were acting like a big, fat… bitch!"

I shoved him off and he collapsed on the floor in a giggle fit.

"Jack," I hissed. "Are you…drunk?

"Me, drunk? Pssh, noooo," he drawled. "Hey, you know what? I think I might be drunk! But, sshh! Keep it a secret!" he giggled quietly, holding a finger up to his lips for secrecy.

"Oh dear lord," I muttered. I dragged Jack by the arm to his room door and swung it open. Roger wasn't in there, but there was a lovely liquor flask sitting on Jack's bed. He stumbled over to it and held it up like a crucifix.

"Looky, Charlie! A nice man gave me this at work today! His name was Frank. Frank is a nice man. And look, Charlie! It's magical! No matter how much I drink, it just keeps fillin' up, it does! Hee, hee!"

Jack raised the flask up to his lips, attempting to take another swig, but I grabbed it began wrestling it from him. "Jack, you can't have this. Give it to me now!"

"Nooooo!" he cried, but the bottle easily slipped out of his grip and I capped it. "Not my magical bottle! _You _can't have it! Cause you're a big, fat-"

"Bitch, yeah, I got it. Listen, is Roger here?" I asked, peering out into the glossy hallway. Something told me he was involved in this.

"He said he would be right back. He left just a minute ago. But he was with me for a long time! Roger brought me from my work and then he stayed, but he will only be a few minutes. Hey, he works with me, did you know? Hey! Maybe he's playing hide and seek! Let's go find him and then we'll win and it'll be a surpr_i_se!" He started leaning dangerously out the window, possibly searching for Roger behind a bush, and I had to drag him back inside.

Roger had been here the whole time and Jack just happened to have a "magical" flask that kept refilling. I threw back the door to Roger's closet and brought out the paper bag I saw him bring in last week. Just as I suspected as of 10 seconds ago, bottles of wine, scotch, and vodka filled the inside galore, some empty and still sticky from their last emptying.

"That bastard! Jack, it's Roger who's been filling up you flask, not magic, you idiot!" I cried, shoving the bag back into his closet with a clatter.

"Hey, I am no idiot!" Jack declared before flopping face first onto the floor. I sighed and ordered him to get up, we had to go. "Ooh, where are we going?" he asked excitedly. "Should I bring my pajamas? _Ooh_, it it a sleepover?" he giggled.

"Yeah, sleepover. Change into your pajamas right now, I'll be right outside." But he wouldn't let me leave, so I had to awkwardly wait inside with my back turned while he stumbled around, pulling on his pj's. Luckily, I didn't see anything except for his navy pajama pants and black t-shirt. I led Jack to my room and let him bounce on the empty bed.

"Hey, Charlie, I have a secret," he slurred.

"If it's about me being a bitch, I'd rather not hear it. You already let that one slip."

"No, that's not," he said, slowing his bouncing to a stop. "I don't feel so good." He jolted and held his hand covering his mouth, his eyes wide like a frightened child's.

"Oh, god," I muttered. I quickly snatched my wastebasket and placed it in Jack's lap. He immediatly vomited inside it, dropping his head so low it almost dipped into the barf. Yes, I had to hold his head up by his hair.

"You gonna tell me what happened?" I asked. "I think you should."

"Story? Okay!" he replied. "Well there's this guy named _Frank_ at work. And…and…" He stopped, straining to recall his tale. "I was getting really sad because I think I'm gonna run out money and I don't know how to support a baby. I don't know _shit_, Charlie." Jack paused, revisiting this thought, I supposed. "And I'm gonna be a bad dad and raise a bad kid and have a bad life. And you got mad at me being a big fat bitch and that made me _depressed_, Charlie. Charlie. _Char_lie. Char_lie-_"

"Jack!" I snapped. He zoned out of his story to start saying my name funny. "Continue!"

"Oh, yeah! So to cheer me up, Frank told me he had some stuff he could give me to fix it. And so I took it! And that's it."

I paused as Jack threw up a bit more. "Jack, do you really feel that way?" I asked evenly.

"Yep," he answered. And after one final upchuck, Jack passed out sharply on the unused bed. I guessed we could talk about it in the morning. I reached for an extra bedsheet I packed and draped it over his lanky body after I straightened it out into a laying postition. Although he was drunk as a sailor, Jack still looked somewhat peaceful. Completely still, his red hair seemed like a pillow of fire. His pale face seemed to have tiny smile, like he was having a pleasant dream. Like he had actually _fallen_ asleep instead of just passing out.

I layed on my bed and barely flicked off the light before collapsing asleep, just like Jack, but in a better way, I suppose.


	9. Chapter 9

**WOW it has been FOREVER. This chapter's kinda just slopped together and pretty short. My computer's been kinda messed, but anyway.**

"Here." I shoved a cup of coffee into Jack's hand as he slowly sat up, groaning in pain. I had pulled up my desk chair and was sitting next to the mess of a bed. On the bedside table, I had a bottle of water and a glass next to a packet of alka-seltzer. Jack hesitantly stared at the coffee for a while, as if deciding whether I'd filled it with poison or not, before taking a drink.

"Do I want to ask what happened?" he muttered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. His red hair was ruffled and sticking up every which way like a wild fire.

"Doubt it, but I'll tell-"

"Aah, aah…" he murmured, massaging his templed with one hand. "Stop yelling at me…"

"I'm not," I muttered.

"Yes, you are. Ssh…"

I rolled my eyes and practically went down to a whisper. "You made the ever-so-wise decision of continuously drinking from a 'magical flask,' threw up in my garbage can, and successfully passed out on this bed here."

Jack began choking on his coffee, earning a hard thump on the back by me that may or may not have been because of the gagging. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry, really. Oh, this is…"

"Yeah, whatever," I said, returning my voice to normal.

"What…time is it?" he asked tentatively.

"Three."

"_In the morning?_"

"Yeah, hence the darkness," I muttered sarcastically, motioning towards the curtains that were leaking in numerous rays of sunlight.

"Oh."

"I can see the liquor removed half your brain…"

"_Liquor_?" he asked incredulously. "I thought it was just beer! I mean… that's what I remember. That's all I remember, actually…"

"Beer, wine, scotch, whisky. You name it, you drank it."

"Oh…oh shit, shit shit."

"Well, I don't know about that one, but you were definitely drunk enough to try it." Even with a hangover, Jack was able to shoot me that bitter look in which he scrunched up his face and all his freckles came closer together.

"Well… thanks, anyway," he mumbled. I pretended I didn't hear him and prepared an alka-seltzer. "I really do feel selfish, you know," he continued.

"Mm-hmm."

"It was terrible."

"Mm-hmm."

"And stupid."

"Yup."

"Do you have anything else to say?"

"I'm not really one for talking."

Jack sighed and downed the alka-seltzer like it was a tequila shot. "Alright, well I think you're good to go," I muttered, standing up.

"Wait, that's it?" he asked. "But…but I just woke up!"

"Yeah, well…tough. Get up, come on. You can't stay in my room forever." Jack put down the glass and I slowly pulled him up by his wrists so as not to agitate the buzzing going on inside his head. Then it was like watching a baby walk for the first time. He stuck out his foot all wobbly and nearly toppled over. After a few tries, he managed to almost conduct his regular snobby stride, only with a new sway to it.

"Alright now, across the hall, grandma," I muttered under my breath and I held out my arm for Jack to cling on to. I opened the door to the hall and stepped out, dragging him along. The lighting boggled him a bit and it was my job to keep him steady, so I had to pull him up as he nearly tumbled to the floor in a heap. It must have felt like someone was jackhammering into his brain with the amount of alcohol he intoxicated. A few boys managed to get a peek at Jack shuffling across the floor, nearly bursting out in laughter and whispering amongst themselves. "Hey, buzz off!" I bellowed.

"Aah!" Jack whimpered. Oh yeah, I forgot I wasn't supposed to be loud.

"Suck it up," I muttered, staring daggers at the other boys who began to scuttle away.

"I'll get them with my spear, they'll never see it coming," he said under his breath.

"What?"

"What? I didn't say anything," he murmured, darting his eyes. Jack managed to straighten up and take better steps up to his door, which almost immediately opened at our arrival to welcome us.

"Well, good afternoon. Or, should I say good morning by the looks of you, Jacky," Roger greeted.

"You!" Jack said. "You made a fool of me! My own best friend betrayed me and made me look like an idiot!"

"Of course not, Jack! I would never do that to you. Don't you remember who drove you home last night? Who made sure you were safe before going back to work?"

"You kept refilling the flask, you bloody git!"

"It was a joke! I only did it once you were back in the room, didn't I?"

Jack pondered for a second, reviewing all of Roger's arguments.

"You were going for Jack's job!" I blurted. "You just didn't want him to return, that was it!"

Roger studied me. His eyes said, "Miss Smartie's figured me out, has she? Brighter than she looks." But his mouth said, "Now why would I do that? He _is_ my best friend."

"Oh, cut the crap!" I hissed. Best friends or not, there are just some things you'll do _anything_ for, Roger. Like Jack's higher position at the pub."

Roger hesitated. "It was only joke. Right, Jack? We used to do that kind of stuff to each other all the time." Jack was silent, but I could tell he was no longer angry. But now I sure as hell was.

"Whatever," I muttered, shoving Jack into his room and stomping into mine with a slam of the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**It really has been a whiiiiiile. So here's a longer chapter. I'm working more, I think. Leave reviews!**

Jack just pissed me off. Roger did too, of course. You can't have one without the other, can you? Anyway, every time Jack saw me or started approaching me, I just blew him off. He can almost-kill himself on his own time without me around. Though he didn't look real pleased with me, anyhow. I suppose it was that hunter pride he was gaining back that he temporarily lost. Anyway, Friday night came along, two weeks after his "incident." School wasn't going so well. I mean, normal for me, but not great. But then I got a call to my room phone.

I managed to roll myself over and push myself up from my comfy laptop-using position to pick up the ringing phone.

"Hullo?" I grumbled. Yeah, I wasn't exactly a happy camper lately.

"Ms. Emerson?"

"Yes?" I answered a bit annoyed, straightening out my huge black sweatshirt. I really was having a hard time fitting into my old clothes at 12 weeks pregnant, seeing as most of them were pretty tight fitting (or as my mother would lovingly call them, "whore clothes"). So now I had to resort to things like sweats, though to balance myself out that day, I wore shorts and a sweatshirt of mine with my hair in a messy ponytail.

"You have a visitor here, I'm sending them up."

The other line hung up before I could reply (let's just say, the lady at the front desk and I weren't exactly on greatest terms). Visitor? Shit! I didn't know of anyone coming to see me! Oh god, if it was my mom I swear I would jump out the window myself down several stories to sweet and deathly relief.

But what if it wasn't my mom? Well who else could it be? No one who went to this school would need to ask the front desk to see me. But I still didn't know who it could be. Then the knock on my door came. I opened the door, prepared for whatever the worst was that would come my way. However, I couldn't have been more wrong.

Standing before me was a six foot tall guy with a gray-rimmed black cap over his jet black hair. His light brown eyes were barely visible beneath his swinging bangs. He wore a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones and dark jeans. His pierced lips broke into a smile as he saw me and said in an imitation voice of the desk lady, "Ms. Emerson?"

"Tyler!" I cried. He held out his hand as if for an arm wrestle and I clasped it, clapping him on the back and pulling him into my room with a close of the door. "Dude, what're you doing here?"

"Ah, just thought I'd come to visit my favorite girl band member," he said, getting a look around my room. It was always a joke between my band members and I that I was their "favorite girl band member" when I was really the only girl band member. "So how've you been?" Tyler asked.

"What do you think?" I grumbled.

"Can't blame you, this place looks kinda shitty," he replied, examining my room floor. "Plus everyone here's got that annoying as hell British accent."

"Friggin tell me about," I answered. "But really, man, why are you here? I mean, where are you even staying?"

Tyler slipped the backpack he was apparently wearing off and sat in my desk chair. "Ah, there's a hotel a few miles out of here. But honestly, I got kicked out of my school."

"For what?"

"Well, I had to do something to keep the principal away while I moved my drums into his office to play over the morning announcements."

"...Did you do it?" I asked.

Hell yeah!"

"Well, I guess that's an upside. But I mean, aren't all the band members at different schools now?"

"Yeah, but whatever, it doesn't make much of a difference to us, anyway. Except for you. Seriously, Charlie, it's pretty hard finding a new guitarist _and_ vocalist."

I shrugged and flopped on my bed. "I gotta say, I really do miss it," I confessed.

"Well at least you've got one here," he said, eyeing my guitar that still sat in the corner of my room. "Pretty sick looking, too."

"Yeah, well, I haven't even played it," I answered.

"You haven't?" he asked incredulously. "Are you insane?"

"Rather, the opposite, I'd think," I muttered.

It was pretty cool being able to finally talk to one of my friends. No one was annoying me, frustrating me, judging me, just me and an old "pal." It really was cool just talking to him for what was probably a few hours, honestly. He had a lot to catch me up on with our other friends and the people in the community (not gossip, just the good stuff). Before I knew it, it was already 8:00 and the sky outside started darkening. Then I got a knock at the door.

I was laughing hard with my head against the wall and listening about a prank that came to the preppiest girl in one of my old schools when there was a knock on my door. "Oh god, hold on," I said through gasps for breath. "We left off with the part with the tampon, remember that." I was in such a good mood when I answered the door, but it soon deteriorated when I saw who was on the other side.

"Charlie, this is ridiculous," Jack said immediately and angrily. "I don't need you to tell me or take..." he saw past my door and spotted Tyler sitting in my desk chair. "Oh. Hello." Jack shortly greeted. "Uh, who are you?"

"None of your damn business," I answered, pushing him out of my doorway. "One second, Tyler."

"That's alright, I gotta use the bathroom anyway. Where'd that be?"

"Through the doors, turn right, on the left," I instructed. He nodded and glanced at Jack before slipping past us and through the hall.

"Who the hell is that?" Jack hissed when Tyler was out of earshot.

"Friend, all right? Now leave and go destroy your liver or something."

"Let that go, will you? Look, I don't care if you want to keep everything business, but I'm just saying that it's been four weeks since-"

"Boo freakin hoo."

"Does your 'friend' even _know_?" he shot.

I paused. Then I crossed my arms and looked down at the shiny floor. "No." Then I met his eyes and argued before he could say anything, "He doesn't _need_ to know!" I knew that as long as I wore baggy clothes, Tyler probably wouldn't find out.

"Look, I don't know what kind of stuff you do with your friends, but-"

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" I cried.

"It's not supposed to _mean_ anything!"

"Okay, you know what, you're being an asshole right now, so I'm just gonna go-"

"Now wait just one second, like I said it's been four weeks since-"

"What is your _point_?" I hissed hurriedly.

"Fine, just take my goddamn number and call me to figure it out, because you obviously are not in a mood to communicate with a human," he said with a twinge of sarcasm in the end. He took out a piece of paper and pen from his pocket and scribbled on it before handing it over to me.

"I'm not taking your freaking number," I muttered.

"Just take it and I'll leave you in peace with your 'friend.' "

With a final glare and adjusting of my jaw, and snatched the paper from his hands and retreated back into my room with a slam of my door.

Furious, I flopped back onto my bed and shoved the useless piece of paper into my sweatshirt pocket. Like I'd be needing that.

So I sat. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. When it had finally been 20 minutes, I decided it had been way to long and made my way to the bathroom. I should have known something was up when I heard Tyler's laughter from outside the door.

When I entered the bathroom, I saw Tyler leaning against one of the sinks, talking to Roger. Yes, Roger. Tyler may have been laughing, but Roger was physically prevented from doing more than a smirk due to his creepy douchebaggy-ness. I watched the scene in awe for less than a second when Tyler spotted me.

"Oh, hey, Charlie!" he said. "Ah, how long has it been? Shit, sorry, didn't mean to hold you up. I was just talking to-"

"Roger," I interrupted. "Yeah, I know. We've, uh... met."

"How's it going?" Roger asked with that sly smile of his.

"Oh, you know," I answered with a sarcastic smile that apparently Tyler was too stupid to catch. "Okay, well I'm just going to head back to my room," I said, heading out the door. Tyler told me he'd meet me in a minute.

After only a minute or two, Tyler knocked on my door to tell me that he had to head back to his motel, but I offered him to stay in my room since I had an empty bed (just in case you were wondering, yes, it was against school rules to have a non-student of the school stay in its dormitories, but we weren't really ones for rules). After deciding it wasn't worth it to take public transportation, he agreed.


	11. Chapter 11

**I know this might be getting awkward, but come on now. Let me know predictions, whatever you think about it. Lots of love to anyone still reading this.**

"Let's get out of here and play. Let's do it."

Tyler was looking out the dark window when he hatched this idea. We'd been reminiscing about our old band days for almost the whole day (well, we woke up at about one in the afternoon, then walked around campus, and we may or may not have pulled a few pranks. It had been a pretty full day). "And go where?" I laughed. "It's not like where we were in Ohio, there's not a ton of places to play."

"Alright, you can't be pissed at me, but I got us a place."

"What?" I said. "How?"

"On my first night in England I found a place and booked us. It's pretty cool, actually. Like a backdoor concert area and bands just come and play, it's pretty free if no one else plays. It's like a party down there."

"No way!" I cheered. "How could I be pissed?"

"I booked before asking you."

"I don't think it could be better!" I cried. I glanced at the clock which read 9:00 P.M. "Well come on, man, let's go, let's do it!" I said, grinning.

I hadn't been to any sort of concert or part in ages, and I figured I was way overdue. This was like an angelic opportunity apppearing golden right before my eyes. Plus, I was already set in my jeans and sweatshirt. I approached the door while Tyler slipped on his shoes. "You're gonna need your guitar, you know." I glared at the sleek black guitar that glinted in my bedroom light, as if it were laughing at me, laughing over the fact that I simply couldn't ignore it forever, I'd have to use it. I slipped it into a case and swung it over my shoulders.

"What about you?" I asked. "How are you gonna play drums?"

"Drums are supplied, guitars aren't," he answered, standing up and heading to the door before stopping to notice my apparel. "Is that your 'concert hoodie'?" he asked skeptically. "England has definitely brought a new style upon you."

"Oh, shut up," I grunted, shoving him out the door.

The place was pretty cool. Tyler and I used public transportation to get to there, and I learned that "there" was locally known as "The Cellar," though it wasn't underground. It was the huge back garage of some abandoned building and it resembled a repair shop garage, though it was larger and didn't have any of the equipment. Instead of the tools and intruments, there was a "stage" (it was cramped and only about three steps off of the ground) in the front and an enormous crowd area where everyone stood. Near the stage were a couple of rooms for bands to settle, and some probably for people who wanted "privacy."

It was definitely a party place. Teenagers and people in their early twenties were bouncing around in time with the current band on the stage. It seemed warm and humid inside, not to mention the somewhat dim lighting cast about the place and music blaring intensely from every which way. It was hard to just navigate towards the front without being shoved about. Needless to say, it was pretty awesome.

When Tyler and I finally made it to the front near the stage, we were covered in various colors of silly string and had several cans of the stuff in our hands which people were apparently just giving out. I dropped them and followed Tyler into one of the rooms where a few different groups were practicing.

"Alright, just in time," he said, examining a sheet on the wall. "We're up next."

"Wait, what?" I asked. "But we don't even know what we're playing! Shit, I've barely played guitar in months, I don't know-"

"Ah, there you guys are," I voice interrupted. I nearly threw my fist through a nearby speaker's screen on pure instinct.

"Roger, you made it!" Tyler greeted him.

"I've been here waiting on you guys, I came early from my shift at the pub. Charlie," he acknowledged.

"Yeah, okay, Tyler, why don't you, uh, come look at this crack in the wall with me, huh?" I said, gripping his arm and pulling him away from the murderer before us.

"Hot damn, someone's pissed!" Tyler grumbled as he massaged the white marks on his arm I'd left him.

"Why is he here?" I hissed.

"He's gonna play with us, and I think you gave me bruises-" Tyler answered.

"Look, this kid is bad news, alright?"

"Bad how? He's pretty cool, you know."

I couldn't just come out and say what happened. I mean, if Tyler knew I was pregnant, that would make things incredibly awkward and different, and I'd just gotent an old friend back. And I didn't want to talk about the island, because that shit was just over and done with.

"He got his best friend super drunk and almost got him fired," I offered.

"Really?" he asked. "Well, I guess we can compare tactics."

"Tyler, seriously, just forget about him, okay?" I pleaded.

"Charlie, look, I normally would if you asked me. But I mean, unless he's done anything to you, we're playing with him; he plays the bass we need. Wait- _has_ he done anything to you? Because I swear, I can pummel that punk into a fine-"

"No," I interrupted sternly. Being a six and a half foot tall giant, Tyler was rather protective of me, like an older brother, but without being an annoying prat. He always did a good job, too, except for this part, when it mattered the most. If I'd told him, he would've killed Roger without a second thought. But again, same reasons for not telling him in the first place. Of course, I could have left. I could have not played at all. But the truth was, I was dying to. It was like a burning sensation in my heart and fingers to play and feel the adrenaline of being onstage and hearing the crowd's buzz over the music. Not to mention it would've been suspcious to Tyler. "Whatever," I said. "Let's figure out what we're playing."

We managed to agree on "Alien" by Pennywise (which apparently even Roger knew, or could get used to) right before being called on stage. With a muttered prayer to whoever was listening, I grabbed my guitar and walked on. While plugging my guitar into the amps, I met Roger doing the same.

"Didn't know you played guitar," Roger said slyly as he untangled the cord.

"I can say the same for you," I muttered.

"That's a rather baggy sweatshirt you've got on there. Aren't you warm?" he asked. I didn't answer, knowing he understood exactly what sweatshirt was hiding. "Oh, just so you know," he added as he finally plugged in his guitar. "I _am_ in choir, so I just might be using the microphone a bit. But don't be intimidated." With a smirk, he marched to his position on stage, and Tyler was ready to go, egging on the roaring crowd. I slipped my guitar on. It didn't fit quite right. With the bump and all, I almost couldn't hold it right.

It wasn't the same.

It wasn't the same.

I finally came on, earning a few extra cheers just for being a girl. I played a practice chord or two before signaling Tyler to count us off.

All at once, we burst out. I felt my hand tremble on the first few notes, my fingers wildly trying to keep up with both the music and months of no practice. I played a few sour notes, but then I felt the energy traveling like electricity through my guitar, up my arm, and it felt just like it always did. I was officially one with the music after only a few measures, completely hypnotized by the sound. It was as if I'd never quit playing since Ohio. The guitar was actually quite the smooth player and seemed to work quite well. Not only did I play guitar, though, I was also the vocalist of our little "band."

_Everyday convince myself of everything I can and can't believe._

_abused, confused._

_Everyday you feel every crime just stare up at the sky and wonder why._

_afraid, derranged._

That was all I got by myself. I was entering into the refrain when Roger joined up at the mic, getting way too close for comfort and sang along. Joy.

_Hold on to your promise you can use it for a crutch._

I noticed him looking at me under that dark hair of his, through those deep brown eyes, and I hated it.

_Stand by while all your dreams get trampled in the dust._

He was getting even closer. I couldn't stand it, listening to the musical voice escape through what seemed like a permanent smirk on his face, that sadistic, sick, crazy face that never left the island, never dropped that spear. Never stopped thinking about what terrible action to do next, knowing that some limits just wouldn't stop him.

_Leave now before your slick machines begin to rust._

I suddenly became very aware of how wrong my guitar felt against my stomach. I adjusted it uncomfortably, but it wouldn't go away. That feeling, that bump just wouldn't go away.

Then I backed off the mic for good. I could have stayed, fought my ground, and won, but I just didn't it. I'd never felt any sort of feeling like that before, like stopping. I'd only felt resentment, anger, my fuel for perserverence before. But I just stopped. It could have been tiredness, it could have been nausea, it could have been pregnancy. Roger ended up finishing on his own,

_Last chance farewell among us._

The crowd loved it. They simply drank up Roger's voice, his dark and dangerous look for the rest of the song. It was as if I was never at the mic at all. I would have soaked up his voice, too, but you know, loveless rape is kind of a turn off for that sort of thing for me. After we ended, I just walked off the stage with hardly another look at the crowd. I unplugged my guitar and walked into the "practice room" as I was now describing it. I slipped my guitar into its case and swung it on my back. Tyler followed and praised me with, "Charlie, that was incredible! No practice hardly even changed how you play!"

"Yeah, well, thanks-"

"And Roger!" Tyler cried when he walked in. "Dude, that was _wicked!_ I didn't know you sang like _that_!"

"Thanks, mate," Roger said. He met my eyes and said, "Didn't mean to scare Charlie away from the mic, though."

"Yeah," I muttered. "Well, I'm gonna go find water."

I walked out of the room and into the main room where the crowd was bouncing wildly. Near the entrance was a group of people near a cooler. I reached in and grabbed a few water bottles. When I turned around, Roger was hardly half a foot away from me.

"Jesus christ!" I shouted, scared shitless. He took a bottle from my hand and uncapped it for himself. "Nice job out there," he said, eyeing me up and down. I could never get over how freakish this guy was.

"Whatever happened to quiet Roger from the island?" I grumbled. "You've grown to be quite obnoxious."

"It's not like I'm quiet all the time. I like to speak my mind."

"Yeah, I noticed." I glared and headed back to the practice room, as long as it was away from Roger. I attempted to go along the wall and around the crowd, seeing as how it was the clearest path. "I haven't seen you in a while," Roger said, keeping pace with me. "We've got a lot to catch up on."

"How is it that you're not in juvie yet?" I growled. He slipped in front of me and blocked me from going any further.

"I don't know, how is that, hm?" he said. Before I could say anything, he mentioned, "You know, you really don't even look pregnant in that sweatshirt of yours."

"That's the point," I answered impatiently, trying to push my way past him. Instead, he grabbed my arm and started tugging me towards a supply closet just next to us. My reflexes kicked in, and my arm swung (water bottle still in hand, might I add) but Roger apparently already knew this trick and ducked. He pushed me into the closet before I could send a kick or anything of that sort his way. He glanced around before stepping into the closet as well and shutting the door.

"The fuck?" I cried. I tried to push past Roger, but the closet wasn't wide enough to get past and he blocked me easily.

"Come on Charlie," he whispered, gripping his hands hand on my waist. "For old times sake."

"I'm pregnant, you jackass!" I shouted. I dropped the bottles and wrestled in every way to loosen his grip. His hands seemed glued to me. That was, until I sent a punch across his face. Hard. He sure did let go after that. It was a success as he groaned in pain, but he quickly straightened up and and punched me as well, right in the eye. Yup, that's right, he punched a pregnant chick. Seeing this as my opportunity, I was able to slip under his arm and past him, through the closet door.


	12. Chapter 12

**Gah… I have no comment on this sorta out of character chapter. Well, I won't share anything else. But I'd love to hear what you have to say! **

I did my best to lose myself in the crowd, which was pretty easy since it was incredibly dense. The weather outside was nippy, but I went out anyway to clear my head.

I had to get out of here. I should have left when Roger showed up, I knew it, but now I had to go. My left eye was throbbing from where Roger sent his punch, but I ignored it. I was in a worse situation. I had absolutely no money (I'd used it on the bus and wasn't expecting to need it again), so I couldn't get a cab. The buses needed money, too. Tyler was going to cover it for me, but I knew he wouldn't want to leave now, nor would he help me escape in an effort to get me to stay. It was for the better. I could do without seeing him for a while.

It seemed the only thing I had was my phone and...the useless piece of paper in my sweatshirt pocket. Jack's handwriting wasn't the prettiest, but at the moment, the scribbled numbers seemed like my only option, practically a lifeline. Grudgingly, I took out my cell phone and entered the numbers. I repeated the action several times, deleting and reentering the number in hesitation before finally pressing the call button.

After a few rings, Jack picked up groggily. "Hullo?" he mumbled. I cleared my throat and said, "Jack?"

There was a short silence. "Charlie? Is that you?"

Another short silence before I answered. "Yeah."

"Why the bloody hell are you calling me at this time?" I checked the time on my watch, which only read 10:30. I shrugged this somewhat early time off and continued.

"I..."

"Charlie? Are you there?"

"Look, I'm sort of stranded..."

"...And?" he rushed. "Do...do you need me to pick you up?"

I paused again. I didn't want to say it. I did not want to say it. I spoke again when Jack said, "Charlie?"

"Yes," I burst out. "Yes, can you pick me up?"

I told him the most I could about my location, and he figured it out eventually, though he wasn't very pleased about the hour drive.

After only a few minutes, I decided I was too cold despite my sweatshirt and headed inside the The Cellar. After snooping around a bit, I found a door hidden behind a curtain that lead to a small empty area backstage. The sound of the music became more of an irritating pulse behind the speakers. I laid my head against the wall and waited in complete boredom. It was away from Roger, it was away from people. It was my safe-haven for the time being.

Finally an hour later (Tyler was still having a good old time, I could hear him onstage), a buzzing in my pocket disrupted my deep thoughts (a.k.a., I was almost falling asleep). I answered to the sound of Jack's voice.

"Hey, where are you?" he asked, the music almost drowning him out in the background.

"You're here?" I said, straightening up.

"No, I'm asking you from bloody Greece," he muttered. "Yes, I'm here."

I instructed him to meet me on the left stage steps as I made my way.

When Jack finally emerged from the crowd, his was covered in silly string as well and looked rather disgruntled. "How the hell did you even get here?" he asked, picking yellow silly string from his jacket.

"Long story," I murmured, being sure to keep my head down. "Let's just go, fast."

He noticed the guitar case on my back and he quickly said, "Here, let me get that."

I started to argue, getting ready to make him back off, but then sighed, practically gave up, and murmured, "Thanks." This must have even thrown him off because he gave me a weird look before continuing on.

Of course, we couldn't make it out without being doused in silly string. I swear, it's like they were being used as freaking weapons. I must have looked extremely paranoid because I kept looking over my shoulder for someone by the name of Creepy-Ass Roger. Luckily, no such Ass showed himself.

In Jack's car, I leaned to the side with my arm against the window, holding my head.

"So...what did happen?" Jack asked as he turned on the car.

"Just... whatever."

"Care to expand?" he offered.

So I quickly went into the story to get it overwith, just summing up how Tyler and I got there, Roger showed up (I skipped the part onstage), and started quieting during the afterwards part offstage. "Then what?" Jack asked, suspicion rising in his voice.

"Just forget it," I muttered.

"No, what?" he insisted, he voice becoming a deathly tone.

"Look, Jack, I don't want to do this now, can we just-"

"Just tell me what he did!"

"He hit me, alright?"

The car jerked as Jack's leg did a sort of twitch. "Where?" he asked, a hint of anger flaring in his voice.

"My eye. I've had worse-"

"Jesus christ..." he grumbled. He pulled over off the empty street and turned to face me. "Let me see." Without an argument, I turned at let him get a look at my left eye. After a flick of the light switch in his spoiled luxury car, Jack inspected it and promptly returned to the road. "Yeah, I'm not driving you back with that."

"Now what? What do you mean?" I sighed, returning to staring through the window (interesting, I know).

"I mean we're stopping by the store before we get to school," he replied.

"Seriously, just drive me back."

I sensed Jack's tension. I was incredibly tired, and not up for any sort of fight. It was almost midnight, for christ's sake, and I was ready to fall asleep with a rock as my pillow. "You're not going back like that," he stated. I tugged on a strap from my sweatshirt.

"Whatever," I mumbled. I could have sworn I saw Jack glance at me from the corner of my eye with that incredulous look again.

"Okay, first aid kit, ice and...ice. Anything else?" Jack muttered as I followed behind him at a late night local grocery store to check out. I shook my head absent mindedly. This guy obviously knew almost nothing about treating a black eye, but I sat back and watched him in his ignorance. It was pretty funny, actually. Jack had been giving me weird looks the whole "shopping trip." I hadn't said a word, or even muttered a single swear. I suppose it was a _bit_ out of the ordinary (notice my sarcasm).

"I'll wait out here," Jack told me as he stood outside one of the crappy handicapped-unisex bathrooms, as if he actually knew what he was doing. "Go clean your eye."

Again, I didn't say anything, but I went into the bathroom anyway. And I did nothing, which is really something I do best. All I really wanted was sleep, so much sleep. I walked to the other side of the singly bathroom and leaned against the wall, shutting my eyes into complete darkness and serenity. I just felt like something was gnawing at me, not letting go. I had never been hit by this before, I wasn't sure what to do. Was it the pregnancy, tiredness, or what? Ah, who knew. What I did know was that there was an emptiness surrounding me, enveloping me. It was nothing like the dark music I listened to. It was nothing like the rebellious art and drawings I always used to do. It was nothing like the chords I used to play in my old band. It was different, too different. A few minutes later, a knock sounded from the door. When I opened it, Jack peered inside the bathroom. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"You haven't washed."

"Nope."

Jack looked around before slipping into the bathroom. "You know, I really think passing people are gonna get the wrong idea," I murmured, leaning with my back against the wall again.

"Come on, it's almost midnight," Jack said, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it. He lightly lathered it with soap and approached me. "Just relax, I'm only gonna wash it, alright?" I said nothing, but closed my eyes. I flinched slightly when the cold damp sheet contacted my sore eye, but I didn't say anything. "You're not rebelling," Jack noted. "I've hardly heard a snarky remark all night." Silence. "Are you tired or something?"

"You could say that," I answered. Jack's touch as he cleaned my bruise was surprisingly gentle, considering he'd used the same hand to slaughter a pig. "I played tonight," I mumbled absently, speaking more to myself and the blackness of my eyelids than Jack. "And it felt so…wrong."

"Is that what's got you caught up?" he asked, still dabbing at my eye with a papertowel.

"I was gonna be a musician," I muttered.

"You know it's starting to sound like you're drunk now, right?" Jack asked.

"I loved it," I continued, ignoring his comment. Or, maybe it just didn't comprehend it. Like I said, it was more to myself than him. "Now it's like…I can't. I just can't."

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. I was silent. "Can't what?"

"Do anything. It's gone. It's all gone."

"Wait, what's gone?"

"Everything. My life is just…It's never going to happen, is it? It's all gone now, isn't it?"

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," Jack said, giving my bruise its final dabs with a dry paper towel. "Charlie, open your eyes." It was probably one of the hardest things I'd ever done. My eyes were drooping and I felt like I hardly had any breath left in me. I didn't have the same feeling since…well… the island. "Listen to me. That's not true. You can still do…anything, okay? Nothing is changed-"

"It's all changed, Jack," I whispered tiredly. "You can't say it's not, you just can't-"

"Listen, do you remember when we were on the island, and one of the first times I saw you I made that crack about you and women and cooking and you attacked me?"

"Yeah. I kicked your ass."

"Okay, you did not-"

"No, I'm pretty sure I whooped you."

"Okay, well look, you are still the same person, alright? You're still the same Charlie that will take down anyone who crosses her path." I changed the subject.

"Do you remember… my batshit crazy mom?" I asked, looking down. He nodded. "The worst part about everything she said was… that it was true." When I glanced up, Jack was raising his eyebrows. "If you hadn't… you know, I probably would've done it with you anyway. And possibly Roger. And maybe Maurice. There's a chance I would've done it with Robert, too. Or…maybe not 'it', but something…" That wasn't a lie. I was always one to play with boys, strum their hearts like the strings of my guitar. And honestly, Maurice was pretty hot looking in his own way. Even Roger was at the top of my list. Of course, that was before I had the privelage of learning how sickeningly fucked up he is. The thought that I would've played with him voluntarily made me shudder. Jack's eyes grew wide like a frightened child's as I started laughing. "My mom was right, I really am such a slut…"

"Look, I don't know what's up with you right now, but you aren't acting yourself. You're either depressed or…maturing ever so dramatically. Or mood swings. Very possible mood swings. But you need to listen: that's not you anymore, is it? Who you just described."

I looked up into his light, shiny eyes. "I don't know me anymore," I said quietly, shaking my head and staring downwards again. This peptalk Jack was giving was unlike anything I'd ever heard come out of his mouth. He seemed to really be trying, as if he actually wanted to make a difference.

"I do. You're strong. You're independent. You kick ass like no other girl. And you always will."

I looked up again. His glassy eyes were filled with something I'd never seen in them before…worry. Care. Life. I realized Jack was still in his pajamas with a simple coat over them. His hair was unbrushed and dark circles sat beneath his eyes. Everything about him was frazzled except his facial expression. He may as well have just rolled out of bed. Something was actually hitting me. Could it have possibly been… pity? Thankfulness? I had no idea.

Jack was still somewhat leaning closely over me, waiting for some sort of response. What was I supposed to do? Say? I may as well have been a completely different person. I'd never been in a situation like this. I'd never lost such a chunk of my defensive personality, like I was crumbling. Now that I thought about it, my entire life had been flipped upside down. And I just realized it at that very moment.

I weakly reached up into Jack's hair and took out a pink piece of silly string that had been sitting in a sea of red. "I… don't think pink is your color," I whispered lamely.

And that's when he leaned in closer. I stayed silent. Everything seemed in slow motion. He moved in nearer and nearer until his lips touched mine… and he kissed me.

Jack Merridew kissed me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Sure has been a while since I updated. Hm, I feel like this is going kind of slow, especially since I have future stuff planned. Would it be terrible if I elongated the chapter lengths? You know drill now, guys. And sorry for the OOC. Let's call it maturing just for the sake of… unrealism. And by the way, I changed chapter 7. I've been wanting to change that forever, but I finally got around to it because it's sorta mentioned in this chapter.**

And I kissed back.

Jack's hand held my neck and my fingers were playing with his fiery red hair. My mind flashed back to our first kiss on the island. The way he was a hardcore hunter, and much more of a jackass than he was now. He had yanked my arm right before the first kiss, I remembered. The next kiss after that was…against my own will. And so was everything on the island after that.

How could I have been doing this? How could I be returning the kiss (was that French I was feeling?) from the same guy who screwed me, both literally and (possibly) figuratively.

I seemed to have forgotten about all of it. Well, I guess it seemed more like the hot new breath flowing through my mouth was more important. Oh, god, what was I doing? This was Jack. Jack who made that stupid sexist joke on the island. Jack who was so fond of killing just for the sake of blood. Jack who tied me up like a prisoner. Jack who raped me against my will.

But then he was Jack who took my shit after the island. Jack who bought me my own guitar. Jack who stuck with me no matter what crap I gave him. Jack who took me to the doctor and got a job to pay out of his own pocket just to deal with my conditions. Who was probably the only person who actually cared about me. And now he was picking me up in the middle of the night out of a mess I put myself in.

How did I not see it before, the way he was always acting around me? How long had he been thinking about this? What about that time he tucked me into bed when I fell asleep after my long work shift? Jack didn't need to be with me when I got home late from work, he didn't need to get another job for me, and he didn't need to pick me up now and take the time to fix my black eye. But he did.

We went at it like… well, like the two teenagers we were. There was some serious tongue action going on when urgent knocks on the bathroom door and a shrill voice interrupted. "Oy, open up in there, I'd like to use the lavatory before next Christmas mind you!" a woman yelled. Let me tell you, you have not heard angry until you've heard it in a British accent.

"Oh, oh shit," I muttered as our lips separated. We rushed out and saw a short, plump woman standing outside the door with her arms crossed. She rolled her eyes at the sight of two teenagers leaving the bathroom tonight.

"Kids today," she grumbled. I glared at her, threatening her with my eyes, and moved on.

Jack and I made our way to his car without so much as a look at each other. When we slammed the car doors was when we finally started talking. "I don't know what that was," I blurted. "That was just-"

"Wrong," he finished. We both started rambling.

"Random."

"Bad."

"Terrible."

"Awful."

"Sinful."

Apparently, that did nothing but egg us on because we were at it again a split second later. Teenagers, what are you gonna do?

"Oh, god," I muttered, breaking away. "What are we doing? What are _you_ doing?"

"Come on Charlie!" Jack blurted. "It's not like I haven't been trying to-"

"No, no, you really haven't," I interrupted. "Because… because you just can't! Because you're Jack freakin' Merridew! And I don't do this with Jack Merridew, I just don't-"

I began practically driving myself insane with my own thoughts. My heart was pounding too hard, my adrenaline pumping too fast. Look, this never happens to Charlie Emerson. EVER (at least, not without the involvement of my buddies and some alcohol). I am a zen person. Well… cool person. I'm not sure all zen people beat up assholes. But I'm sure there are cool people out there who do. I don't get like that. I NEVER get like that. I punch people. Yes, that's what I do. If you've got a problem with that I'll fight you in the back, but we'll save that for later.

"Hey, stop," Jack said, noticing my anxiousness (it was pretty hard to ignore). "Look at me." I lifted my eyes to look into his. God, those shiny blue eyes were like melting icicles digging into… something. "Do you trust me?" he asked. What the hell was he getting at? I swear, if I hadn't been preoccupied with ways of getting out of there, I would've hit him somewhere that would strike up some island memories.

"I… I don't know what that means-"

"It's yes or no; Charlie, after all these weeks, do you finally trust me?" What the hell was this? Since when does Merridew talk like _that_? This was not fucking okay.

"Don't do this, Jack," I warned. A year ago I would have taken the idea of being with any guy and ran with it, but now it was different. Now the island happened. I had to watch my step now.

"A chance, I just need a chance," he told me.

"I can't stay here, I can't do this," I muttered. I opened the door and stepped out, ready to close it with a final slam.

"Just stop! Wait!" he yelled. "Please." I gripped my hand into a tight fist until my knuckles turned white. Reluctantly, I climbed back into the car and slammed the door closed. "I promise I'm not the same anymore."

I burst out laughing. "Oh, okay then," I said sarcastically. "So now I'm just supposed to say 'go for it' and cross my fingers?"

"But I'm not."

"How am I supposed to know-"

He initiated the third kiss of the night. "Okay, STOP DOING THAT," I said.

"Just answering your question. Making things easier," he replied.

"Oh, great job. I can already feel the stress and tension being lifted." He was quiet and the air between us was silent. Just today things were normal, as normal as they could be for my fucked up situation. But now things were ten times more complicated. Jack's dark-circled, sleepy eyes looked at me for an answer. His red hair was ruffled and seemed as if it had never come in contact with a comb in its life. "Don't make me regret this," I said quietly.

"Alright, now," Jack whispered, motioning me into our school dormitory building. He was treating our early morning sneak-in like a military operation. It was so late the night before that we didn't even try to get back to school, but camped in his car instead. Now our mission was to sneak into our rooms without getting noticed by any teachers or adults.

"Tell me again how you got a key to the back entrance?" I asked, walking past him as he glanced around.

"I told you, being such a model student like myself has its perks," he answered with a smirk as he passed by me to the elevator.

"Oh, that's right."

We made it all the way to our floor without running into a single soul when someone met us in the hall on the way to our rooms.

"Aw, Jesus fucking christ, how does he do this?" I grumbled. Some way, somehow, no matter what, Roger always managed to weasel himself into my path as if whatever way I walked happened to be his normal route.

"They're called windows, sweetheart; they were invented a long time ago," Roger answered with a satisfied smirk. I glared at him and he drank in the sight of Jack and I. "Well now, what do we have here? A boy and a girl sneaking in so early? What on earth could you two have been doing?" (For the record, Jack and I didn't do anything more than what I told you.)

"Shut it, Roger," I muttered.

"Ooh, touchy, I think I'm getting somewhere. Tell me, Jack, what was Charlie like the second time?" That's it. I lunged at him, but Jack already saw this coming and grabbed me just under my chest as I was in midjump. I squirmed middair in his arms, trying to get a good shot at Roger. "You better be careful with her, Jack, she's a messy one."

When I glanced at Jack, I saw anger starting to rise in his eyes as well. I flailed one last time and he put my down. Roger smirked and made his way down toward the other end of the hallway. "You two take care now," he said with a wink. When he turned the corner, I faced Jack.

"I could have taken him," I muttered.

"I know," he replied. "But that's the best way to get a one-way ticket out of here." Secretly, I knew that Jack really wanted to slice Roger into pieces, too, but he couldn't show it.

Jack's room was first, but instead of going in, he followed me to mine. "Sorry sheep, but Little Bo Peep is out; your room's that way," I said. Jack looked at me rather confused. I had a feeling I'd never be able to let go of those remarks.

"Charlie, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked a little too seriously. I swallowed any sarcastic comments I had forming at the back of my throat and answered, "Sure."

I opened my room door and sat in the middle of my bed, my legs held close to my chest and my back against the wall. I wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe a confession of regret, or maybe he wanted to kill me in private. I realized my mind was leaning more toward the island Jack, and I tried to snap out of it.

"Charlie, what about that paternity test?" I'd forgotten about that. I realized I could take it now anytime I wanted.

"Uh, what about it?"

Jack came over and sat next to me on the bed, and he leaned his back against the wall similarly. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, looking at me.

"What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Jack's eyes almost went empty, like he was gazing at time and space itself… or that one ridiculous pencil drawing on the wall that looked much like a certain male organ (my guess was that Tyler had something to do with it).

"It's just…it's a lot… to take in, you know?"

Yeah, I knew real well. I nodded at him and said, "Take it next Saturday then?"

"Next Saturday."


	14. Chapter 14

**Man, Charlie is so hateable and dramatic in this chapter. I find myself wanting to slap her in the face. I probably shouldn't want to slap a pregnant chick in the face, right? Whatever. Her moodswings.**

"Alright, just the cotton swab and that will be it," Dr. Reynolds said. I was biting my lip so hard I could taste the blood squirting. Jack cooperated and handed her the swab he'd rubbed on the inside of his cheek. She took it and informed us she'd be back in a minute with more information. I waited for the door to click shut behind her.

"That was the most uncomfortable shit I've ever fucking done," I bursted. Believe me, you do _not_ want to know what it feels like to have a prenatal paternity test done on you.

"Oh god, don't remind me," Jack muttered. The doctor had only started to _tell_ him how the test would go when he had to leave the room. And this guy was a hunter.

I sat in silence, studying the white tiles on the floor. "Alright, I'm just gonna say it," I finally grumbled shrilly. I looked up. "Jack, what if it's yours?"

He sighed and scratched his head. I don't know if either of us had actually thought about what to do. "Then…things won't change much, will they?"

"And what if it's Roger's?"

Jack didn't say anything at first. He stared at the walls, where several posters hung about god-knows-what. "Then…then…"

"Alright, we'll send you the results by next week," Dr. Reynolds interrupted as she came through the door. "Here's some more information." She handed us a few pamphlets and papers. "Any more questions?" I shook my head, absolutely antsing to get out. "Good. Well, don't be afraid to call if anything happens."

"Uh huh, uh huh, yup," I grumbled, grabbing Jack's wrist and making my exit. "Well, thanks for the help," I called through the doorway.

"Dear god, you're strong," Jack muttered, massaging his wrist when we were out of the building.

"Yeah, well, get used to it." My mind was somewhere else. Out in a sea of possiblities, a never-ending world of "what ifs." What if Jack and I didn't last another week? What if I was having Jack's ginger kid? What if I was having Roger's demon kid? What if the kid didn't end up making it at all?

"You never answered my question," I said when we were driving back to our campus.

"Hm?"

"What if the kid was Roger's?"

Jack shifted the positions of his hands on the steering wheel and exhaled through his nose. The flaring of nostrils; I'd seen that enough to know what it meant. But this was time it wasn't of anger, it was out of innocent agitation. "We would think of something. That's all. Things wouldn't change. Not much." I took this as an acceptable answer.

I didn't know how comfortable things could get, but they weren't very. I mean, things were starting to get better. I didn't have to pee as often (thank GOD), I was actually getting hungry now (which is sort of good, sort of bad), and I was getting less tired. But, although it was lessening, I was still throwing up a bit, my breathing was getting harder, and to top it off, I had to swallow pills recommended by the doctor. Let's just say it wasn't pleasant.

Jack was getting a bit touchy, though. Like, physically, and I couldn't tell if it was for better or worse. I mean, for example, just then heading back to our floor he had his arm around me. He knew not to get too close, though (what can I say, I need my space). Speaking of getting to our floor-

"Ah," I hissed.

"What?" Jack asked, his grip on me loosening a bit.

"Crap, I-I need a bathroom." I raised my hand to mouth to try and prevent myself from, shall we say, presenting the art of my intestines all over the hallway floor.

"Are you okay?" he asked nervously. I'd left a few times before due to barf-needs, but Jack never seemed to get over it. "I thought you said you were throwing up less."

"I am, just go," I said, already making my way toward the bathroom.

"Do you need me to-"

"No, just go!" I repeated, bursting through the door. As soon as I reached a stall and locked it was a snap, I slumped on the floor and hurled into the toilet. I'll skip over the details for you, dear listener.

Anyway, I was sitting on the floor with my head against the wall when a pair of guys walked into the bathroom, laughing hysterically.

"Did you see the look on Johnson's face?" one of them cried. I knew they were talking about one of the professors, Professor Johnson, but I had no idea what they did to him. Probably played some pathetic prank on him, like slip an extra sugar cube in his tea. Like the British are good pranksters, please. Eventually their laughter died down.

"I don't think I've seen anyone that whipped since Merridew," one of them piped up.

"What do you mean?" asked the other.

"Come off it now, Marcus, you know what I mean. With that Emerson girl. You know, the pregnant one."

"You could have stopped after 'girl,' there's only one girl in the whole school."

"Well, you know, Jack's totally fumbling, doing everything for her."

"What do you mean, 'everything'?"

"Okay, well you know how they were supposedly on that island last summer? I heard she got knocked up there. Yeah, but here's the thing: she doesn't know by who! She didn't even think to leave time before sleepin' around with Merridew _and_ Roger! So now all three of them are in the mess. Apparently Roger isn't doing much for her, but Jack's cleaning up the wreck, paying for bills, providing support, even pretending to be with her, like a boyfriend, just cause of it. But if he hears that it isn't his, he's dropping everything. Leaving her in the dust without another look."

"How do you know that?" the other guy asked.

"Because it's Merridew! Really Marcus, do you think he'd keep doing it? He just wants to keep his name clear, that's all he's in it for, that's all he's ever been in anything for."

"That's a shame. So she really is pregnant?"

"Of course she is!"

"Well, that's too bad."

"What do you mean?"  
>"You know what I mean! But her boobs have gotten bigger, though."<p>

"You know, I've noticed that too, it's really-"

Now, let me just warn you here folks, this is the part where I went _absolutely_ batshit crazy.

_Slam._

I thrust open the stall door and it swung hard with a bang. The pair looked at me, half-horrified half embarrassed out of their minds. "Save it," I snapped, holding up my hand and pushing open the bathroom door.

I was at my door and wrestling with the lock when Jack popped out of his room.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Get lost!" I almost hollered into his face. I turned back and managed to click the lock open.

"Wait, what just happened?" he asked, his voice rising.

"I don't need your petty money, and I don't need your stupid help. I don't need you!"

"I never said you did-"

"Oh, but you need your reputation, don't you?"

Jack took a second to express his complete bewilderment through facial expressions. "What the_ HELL_ could have _POSSIBLY _happened between the toilet and here?" he cried.

"Save yourself the trouble and don't get involved, alright? You're clear. You happy?" I spat before slamming my door in his face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Are you prepared? Because a LOT is crammed into this chapter. Sorry it's so fast, but I'm running out of time. I don't want this thing to be a bajillion chapters long, but I still have more of the plot to go! I don't know if I make even a third addition to this or I continue and make this one really long fic. THIS, my friends, IS THE MOST IMPORTANT REVIEW CHAPTER OF ALL. What are you predictions? What do you want it to be? I'm taking it all into account (if you want me to) and I want to know your thoughts because this is SUPER IMPORTANT. Ready? GO!**

There comes a time when you just stop caring. Nothing matters to you anymore, and if the world crumbled into powder, it'd make absolutely no difference to you because you were already there at that stage. I thought I was at that point. I thought I'd reached that the day my dad left and I welcomed some shit step-family to live with my insane mom and me. Then I thought nothing mattered when I got stuck on the island and raped two times more than I should have been. Then I thought the night Roger gave me my black eye was the real one. None of those times were it.

This was it.

I was alone in my room with Jack knocking at my door. I had just exploded and I'm pretty sure small remnants of my dignity were lying on the floor. I heard him calling my name over and over, but I didn't answer. I was thinking. Thinking how to get out.

Eventually I heard him sigh. His attempt was over. I listened to each of his footsteps shuffle back to his room until they faded away.

What was I supposed to do now? I was on my own. That was what I wanted, wasn't it? But now everything was falling apart. I'd never felt this hopeless, this screwed. What used to make me feel better? Used to. My past self. There wasn't anything wrong with reverting to my past self, was there?

The motel was pretty dinky. Creaks with every step, paint peeling off the walls, doors coming off their hinges. I'd been in so many places like it before with my friends. No wonder Tyler was staying there.

Room 334. Was I really doing it? Was I actually going to knock on the door of my "friend" that invited Roger to our band? I was questioning myself. I couldn't question myself. The real, old Charlie didn't question herself.

I rapped hard on the rickety door and Tyler answered.

"Charlie," he said, obviously somewhat surprised.

"Hey."

"Uh…what are you doing here?"

"Do I really need a reason?"

"Uh, guess not, but… you sort of ran out last time." Ran out. Ha. Right.

"Yeah, well, sorry. It was just… an emergency," I answered.

"Roger said-"

"Roger- says a lot of stuff," I interrupted in somewhat of a growl. He seemed a bit confused, but shrugged it off. He's a moron like that.

"Well, come in, I guess," Tyler said. His room was a mess, but no surprise there. Wrappers covered the floor, clothes covered the furniture-

"Woah, had a little fun there?" I smirked, carefully picking up a pair of boxers between my index finger and thumb that was on the edge of a chair.

"They're clean," he said, snatching it from my hand. "I haven't done anything _that_ crazy."

"And why not?" I asked.

"Same reason you haven't." My face starting feeling warm. I started fidgeting with my hands to keep them from going to my stomach.

"Uh, what do you mean?" I managed to say.

"Things are changing."

"What _things_?" I spat. He raised his eyebrow in that way only Tyler could.

"Um, things are harder. I mean, come on Charlie. Even I'm getting serious about music and…stuff. I mean, the band at home's already got a demo-"

"Wait- you guys have a demo?" I asked. "You made one…without me?" Tyler's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, I probably wasn't supposed to- well what were we supposed to do? I mean-" he started.

"No, no you're right. I mean…it's not like I was going back," I mumured. He nodded. This was probably the most awkward we'd ever been together. Well, almost I guess. But we'd gone through so much stuff we weren't supposed to get this awkward so easily.

"Uh, I'm just gonna step in the bathroom for a second," he muttered, obviously feeling the tension, too. I nodded. When he shut the door, I wandered around the tiny space. Some cigarettes were flicked here and there, some sticky scotch spilled on the carpet. A mini fridge draped over by a jacket caught my attention. I think I was pretty much expecting what I found.

Alcohol. Everywhere. I mean there were a couple of cans of energy drinks, but seriously. Beer. Whisky. Scotch. Vodka. "Dude, you've got a collection in here!" I called.

"Huh?" he yelled through the door. "Oh yeah, a couple of buddies left it there."

"Woah."

When Tyler came out, I was still examining the bottles. "You can have some if you want."

"Uh…I… I don't know…" I wanted it so bad. I'd only gotten wasted a few times with my friends. But I wasn't supposed to. There would serious consequences, I knew. Things could only get worse with it. Much worse. But I just needed something. Music couldn't suffice as an escape. I needed something bigger, more powerful. "I guess I could use a bottle or two."

"Heh, uh…be careful there," he joked. But it wasn't a joke. At least, not completely/

"What do you mean?" I asked, still inspecting the labels.

"Don't go too overboard."

"What does that mean?" I said, but I don't think it sounded as calm as I meant it to be. "Since when are you concerned about 'overboard'?"

"Since the last time I saw you get trashed."

"Well, I saw you get trashed too, so I guess we're even," I replied.

"Dude, I'm all for it, but if you'd had any more last time-"

"Look, I don't need you looking after me, _dad_," I spat. "I'm a big girl now."

"I'm not trying to-"

"Yeah, whatever." I don't even know how many bottled I grabbed, but it was a few. Just like that, I made my way to the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"What's it matter? Out. Bus. Whatever. Be home by 11:00," I grumbled. I shoved whatever bottles I had under my loose sweatshirt. I'd come by bus, I could go back the same way.

As if things weren't bad enough already, even more started falling apart.

When I got to the bus stop, the seats under the shelter were being repainted so I had to sit on the ground. That wasn't a big thing though, I could face that. Then it started raining. Fine. I was still under the shelter, it didn't affect me too much yet. Then the best part came.

" 'Scuse me, miss," a voice said. I turned and saw a man under an umbrella uproaching. "Sorry, but the bus is running a bit late; and the rain isn't helping. It's going to be a while before it gets here again. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Great," I muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing," I grumbled.

"Is there something I can help you with-"

"No!" I interrupted. "I…I mean no." I didn't even look the man in the eye, but I could tell from me peripheral vision he retracted a bit. Awesome. Now I was stranded, just me and a couple bottles of alcohol. You know, like every other pregnant teenager.

I slipped the bottled out and inspected them. They were dense in alcohol. Like that ones I had before. When I got trashed. Had a major hangover. Like scotch didn't do enough to me in my life. Long story. But did I ever avoid it? Barely. I didn't drink often; I only got drunk once or twice. But when I did, boy did I drink. And I could do it again. Right then.

After several minutes, I held a single bottle. What did it matter, anyway? What did I, or anything of mine matter? I uncapped it. I listened to the rain pattering. I could smell the scent of vodka. I heard the sound of a car engine coming nearer.

A sleek black car pulled up on the edge of the deserted street. A car too familiar. Jack came out of the driver's seat and stood next to his car. "Charlie?" he yelled. "Is that you?" The rain was coming down harder now to a pour. My hood was up and I was silent. He slammed his car door shut and came under the shelter.

I suppose I didn't look too good with a vodka bottle tucked in my arms. "What're you-" he started. "Give me that!"

He bent down and grabbed the one out of my hands and, when he did, he noticed the others standing next to me like a stash. "What the hell happened?"

I snatched a bottle from the hoard before he could. "Bug off, Jack," I told him. "Just bug off!"

"Look, I don't know what even happened, but you can't do this-"

"Why?" I yelled over the rain. The bottles were there. The choice should have been mine and only mine, not one that could change others. "I should be able to what I want, shouldn't I? Why can't I?"

"You know why."

"That's not my choice! That shouldn't affect me! I should be able to give up and do what I want like everyone else. Like you!" Our hands were still on the bottle. I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one feeling the déjà vu.

"But I don't want to give up! That's the difference!" he yelled.

"Oh, bullshit!" I hollered. "You know that you don't even care! I'm _nothing_ to you!" Jack's fingers ungripped the bottle. For the first time in several seconds, the air was silent except for the contant pattering of rain. I stepped outside next to the shelter, becoming instantly drenched. I could feel everything crashing, the heavy vodka in my hand, and-

_Smash._

I threw down the bottle and it instantly shattered into a hundred pieces. Glass was everywhere. I couldn't tell the difference between alcohol and water. It didn't matter to me anymore. After a few seconds of just standing there, Jack shuffled out of the shelter and stood next to me.

"I do care about you," he murmured quietly. I blinked a couple of times and stared down the empty road. It seemed endless in the veil of rain.

"I know," I replied. "I just don't see why."

"Because you're different. You make people work for who they are and you aren't afraid to stand up for yourself. You're one of the few people I can actually respect. And you remind me of who I am. The good and the bad."

I blinked again. "But towards everyone else you act so…different," I said.

"So do you."

I turned over a piece of glass with my foot. "How'd you even find me?"

"Tyler noticed you were a bit… insane, so he called up Roger, hoping he would do something. I mean, I'm not sure if telling me that you were 'at a bus stop with a boatload of liquor' really counts, but I got here."

I crushed a shard beneath my foot. "So now what?" Carefully, Jack put his arm around me. For the first time, I didn't flinch.

"Now we go home."

"Oh, please, like you've never tried it," Jack scoffed. I smirked.

"Not in the dark. Kinky." Jack's jaw dropped.

"It was boy scouts!"

"I was kidding!" I laughed, as we entered my room after class. "Half…" I muttered at the end with a sly smile. I can't say things with Jack were completely comfortable (things don't get like that in a week), but they were better. We were down to joking and laughing and almost having real human contact.

My smirk began to fade when I bent down and picked up a letter. I hardly ever got mail. As I turned it over, I read the return address. "Jack…" I said quietly.

"What?" he asked, his smile now morphing into some sort of confused expression. "What is it…" his voice trailed off as he looked over my shoulder at the return address of the envelope. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh,' no shit," I grumbled. I glanced at his eyes before walking to the other side of my room and picking away at the envelope. Picking away at the answer. This was what I'd been waiting for. What everyone had been waiting for. Everything felt surreal. I was seconds away from finding out who the father was. Sure, it took a few months, but the answer was here and it was between my fingertips.

It looked like a demented dog had tried to open the envelope, but the papers inside were still intact. My eyes scanned the paper at whipping speed. And stopped dead when they'd finally reached the true result.

"…Oh my god…"


	16. Chapter 16

**THIS was supposed to be updated earlier. Sorry. So I took your guys' advice and I'm going to create a new "fic"/part after this one. Making this…THE LAST CHAPTER. Well, for this part. But soon there'll be a new one. And just so you know, and I REALLY hate when people do this, but the next "part" is gonna jump a few months. So there'll be a gap in between, but I really gotta get this moving along. Maybe after I finish everything I'll go back and fill it in with a bunch of one shots, but I don't wanna make too long. Okay, too much talkies. Sorry if this gets awkward, okay go!**

Jack slowly came over towards me and gently took the paper out of my hand. I watched as his eyes scanned the same sentences I did and finally came to the word we'd both been looking for.

"Negative," he said quietly. "That means…"

"Yeah," I answered, already heading towards my door. "Roger."

Roger's. It was Roger's. I was having a bastard's kid. "Charlie?" Jack asked as I swung open my door. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it," I muttered. I stormed down the hall and rapped on his and Roger's door.

"Wait, don't do anything too-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." Roger opened the door and cracked a smile at me.

"Hey, Charlie, nice to see-"

It's a little hard to finish a greeting when a fist hits your face. Jack gaped as Roger stumbled back a few steps. "See? Calm," I said, cocking my head and brushing off my shoulder. "Now, sit down," I told Roger.

"Why-"

"I said, _sit down_, asshole."

Roger rolled his eyes and took a seat on his bed. "Why am I following your directions?"

"Cause you're a moron, so listen up," I said, standing in front of him with my arms crossed. "So, I'm pregnant-"

"Knocked up-"

"Don't push it," I muttered. "And you're the dad. There." Quick and easy. Like a ripping off a band aid. A hell of a life changing band looked at me with probably the most emotion I'd ever seen him with, other than anger and hatred. I think I acually saw a bit of shock and confusion. "Oops," I muttered sarcastically.

"So what am I supposed to do about it?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, _care?_" I spat.

"Why? You don't." He smirked at my expression. You know, that "fuck off" expression of mine with a little bit of the "you did not just say that" face.."Yeah, not the way you've been acting. Don't pretend like I don't know you're not the perfect mother.Drinking, staying out late-"

"Roger, back off a second, will you?" Jack interrupted.

"Standing up for your girlfriend, are you?" Roger muttered.

"What's it to you?" Jack shouted, stepping towards Roger threateningly. Roger icily stood and glared at him.

"Knock it off!" I yelled. "First of all, no one needs to stand up for me. Second of all, Roger, I just thought I'd let you know that, you know, a _child_ of yours in gonna enter the world, so, just to keep in mind, ya know…"

"What makes you so sure-"

"Tests. Paternity tests," I interrupted. "Look, I don't _need_ you for anything, but if you're not gonna _do_ anything_-"_

"I'm not."

I stuck my tongue in my cheek. I don't know what I was expecting when I came. I wasn't completely sure why I came. But I knew then that I wanted to leave. "Great." I started toward the door, then stopped and threw a small handful of papers onto his bed. I left and didn't bother to look back at his face when he discovered the papers were ultrasound pictures.

A figure sat next to me and held his crossed knees. "What are you doing?" I asked quietly. It started darkening outside. I was sitting atop the roof of the dormitory building and staring at the scattered campus. I realized I'd also been twisting the end sleeves of my sweatshirt and I gripped the wrinkled cloth in my fists.

"Sitting," Jack answered.

"Oh, well thanks for clearing that up."

"Roger's a douche."

"So I've heard."

Jack relaxed a bit more. "So what now?"

"How the hell should I know?" I spat. I shut my eyes, sighed, and ducked down my head. "I just don't want to do this anymore. Sixteen weeks of hell, I just want it to stop. I don't want to think anymore. All I know is that it's… all going to end someday."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." Jack shifted. Funny, I'd always wanted to go to England when I was younger. The architecture, the style of the residents, and most of all, the new music that was erupting. I hardly got to know any of it, let alone appreciate it. Ever since I got there I'd been trapped in my fenced in life. It was like everyday I felt another part of me getting drained away by the melancholy state of the tatters of my young life. But no big deal.

"My mom called me the other day," I mumbled. Even Jack tensed. Everytime my mom called, it never ended well.

"And what happened?" he asked.

I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. "I'm going to be homeschooled until graduation. Starting this Christmas."

There were a few seconds of silence as it sunk in. "But..what?"

"Yeah."

"But, why? I mean, why weren't you homeschooled since the beginning of the year?"

"Because I needed the best education for as long as I could and all that crap. Plus it gives her another thing to talk about."

"But that's just stupid! To transfer midyear- that's moronic!"

"Welcome to the inside of my mom's mind."

Jack sighed. "That…sucks. I wish there was something I could do."

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. It is what it is."

Jack's reached into my palm and unfurled it, taking out the crumpled cuff inside. "At least I can visit you."

I nodded silently and slowly drew back my hand from his grasp. "I better go in. I'll…see you later."


End file.
